


On the Wings of Maybe

by OpenPage



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: Consensual, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:50:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 59,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPage/pseuds/OpenPage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the TV series 21 Jump Street during Season 3.  </p><p>From the moment Dennis Booker joined the Jump Street program, he and fellow police officer Tom Hanson have had a fierce rivalry and it is during one of their petty arguments that one of the officers is seriously hurt.  Throughout the following weeks and months, secrets are uncovered, feelings are confessed and as their attitude towards each other begin to change, they find themselves on a journey of discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Sometimes You Hear the Bullet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackcrystaly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/gifts), [marriedtojbiebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriedtojbiebs/gifts).



> **Disclaimer: I do not own 21 Jump Street or any the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.**
> 
> **No copyright infringement is intended.**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590890040/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Prologue - Sometimes You Hear the Bullet**  

A light breeze rustled the leaves of the majestic oak that grew at the edge of the car park of the local high school.  Beneath the tree, two teenagers stood arguing heatedly and several students turned their heads in curiosity.  It was common knowledge amongst the senior year that Dennis Bradley and Tom Harris had a volatile relationship.  They had transferred together two weeks before and many had tried in vain to work out exactly _what_ their association was.  Ninety percent of their time they spent arguing and the remaining ten percent they spent huddled together, deep in conversation.  It was a mystery to those who cared enough to be fascinated and a mild amusement to those who did not.  Within days, the two young men had acquired the nickname _The Odd Couple_ but no one dared say it to their faces.  Apart from showing little regard for each other’s feelings, the two boys’ attitude towards their fellow students was just as unpredictable.  They both wore the tough expression of teenagers who had seen the harsher side of life and even though many of the students at Franklin High School had suffered the same fate, word soon got around that they were not to be messed with.  Both Dennis and Tom had proved themselves quick tempered and ready with their fists and most of the school had quickly concluded that it was best to avoid them or risk receiving the wrath of one or both of the boys.  

However, there was always an exception to prove the rule and that exception was Robbie Watkins.  Watkins had taken a great interest in Tom and Dennis and it was not because he found them fascinating or amusing.  He was the _go to man_ at Franklin High, the supplier of drugs, alcohol and weapons to those who had the cash to pay or favors to exchange.  It had taken him two years to gain his street cred as the one and _only_ dealer in the school but now it appeared that he was going to have some competition.  The rumor circulating throughout Franklin High was that Dennis and Tom were looking to set up a business selling drugs.   When Watkins heard, his anger had become so consuming that he had severely beaten his informant just for being the unfortunate one to tell him the news.  The very thought of losing such a lucrative trade to two lowlifes like Harris and Bradley consumed his every waking thought and slowly an idea formed in his mind.  He was no master strategist, his plan was simple; eliminate the competition… permanently.

**

As cigarette smoke wafted directly into his face, Hanson balled up his fists and glared angrily at Booker. “For the last time, stop doing that!”

Amused by Tom’s outburst, Dennis dangled his cigarette lazily from his lips and gave his fellow undercover officer an amused grin.  “Geez Tommy, lighten up,” he goaded.  “You’re wound so tight one day you’re just gonna pop.”

Hanson’s scowl deepened when he realized that once again, Booker had managed to get the better of him.  He hated it that the overconfident, smug, opinionated cop could rattle him so easily but it had been that way since day one.  Their working relationship remained strained at best and at its worse, they bickered constantly.  It annoyed him that Booker could upset him so easily and he often felt as though his competence as a police officer suffered when their captain partnered them together.  He had always been diligent and focused when he was on a case but when he was with Dennis, he often found his mind wandering.  The young, dark-haired officer was so irritating that he frequently found himself thinking more about how to get even than the case they were working on and today was one of those days.  

Their assignment was to find out who was selling illegal contraband and catch him or her in the act.  It should have been an easy case but they had run into a problem.  Although they had identified Robbie Watkins as the one and only supplier at the high school, the teenager had proven to be much smarter than he looked.  When he had refused to sell to them, they had tried every trick they knew but they just could not work out how and when he made his deals and it was proving to be a sore point between the two officers.  Both had very different ideas on how to proceed but eventually, Booker won the argument.  They would start a rumor that they were looking to deal in the hope that Watkins would become so desperate to keep hold of his empire that he would get sloppy and they would get the information they needed to bust him in the act.

However, that had been two days ago and they were still no closer to catching the teenager red handed.  They had less than a week before the end of term and Tom was rapidly losing patience.  Booker’s exasperating nonchalance infuriated him and he knew that if he had to spend another day looking at his antagonist’s smug face he would lose his cool completely.  Something needed to happen and it needed to happen fast.

Taking a deep breath, he ignored Booker’s last comment and moving closer to his nemesis, he spoke through clenched teeth.  “Your plan isn’t working,” he snarled.  “Watkins hasn’t panicked like _you_ thought he would.  I think we should go to plan B.”

Tilting his head on one side, Dennis smirked annoyingly at Hanson.  “Like _I_ thought he would?” he asked.  “C’mon Tom, you and I both know that my idea was better than yours.  Just admit it, you’re not really a thinker… you’re more the pretty one of the partnership and I’m the brains.”

Hot, blind rage consumed Tom’s mind and he shoved both hands forcefully against Dennis’ chest.  “Fuck you!” he yelled.  “I’m sick and tired of your bullshit.”

The screeching of tires cut through the autumn air and turning his head, Dennis immediately saw Watkins’ red Chevrolet speeding through the car park.  As the vehicle approached, he saw that Robbie was holding something in his hand and when sunlight glinted off the metal, he quickly realized what it was.  “TOMMY LOOK OUT!” he yelled and grabbing hold of Hanson’s shoulders, he threw him to the ground.  

The sound of gunshots echoed through the school grounds and panicked teenagers started to scream and run for cover.  Tom hit the ground hard and several seconds later, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder.  Looking down, he saw blood seeping through his shirt and he realized that he had been shot.  His thoughts immediately turned to Booker and being careful to remain low, he clutched his wounded shoulder as his eyes frantically searched the surrounding area.  Within moments, his gaze settled on Dennis’ prone figure lying several feet away.  Using his good arm, he crawled slowly across the grass and as he neared his partner, he let out an anguished cry.  

Dennis’ face was deathly pale and his eyes remained closed.  When he had hit the ground, his temple had struck a large rock and the grass beneath him was slowly turning red from the large gash on his head.  Blood stained the front of his shirt and a dark pool was seeping through the material of his jeans just below his right knee.  

For Tom, it was his worst nightmare; his partner lay injured and he had no idea if the wounds were fatal.  



	2. Epicinium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: The screeching of tires cut through the autumn air and turning his head, Dennis immediately saw Watkins’ red Chevrolet speeding through the car park.  As the vehicle approached, he saw that Robbie was holding something in his hand and when sunlight glinted off the metal, he quickly realized what it was.  “TOMMY LOOK OUT!” he yelled and grabbing hold of Hanson’s shoulders, he threw him to the ground._
> 
> _The sound of gunshots echoed through the school grounds and panicked teenagers started to scream and run for cover.  Tom hit the ground hard and several seconds later, he felt a searing pain in his shoulder.  Looking down, he saw blood seeping through his shirt and he realized that he had been shot.  His thoughts immediately turned to Booker and being careful to remain low, he clutched his wounded shoulder as his eyes frantically searched the surrounding area.  Within moments, his gaze settled on Dennis’ prone figure lying several feet away.  Using his good arm, he crawled slowly across the grass and as he neared his partner, he let out an anguished cry._
> 
> _Dennis’ face was deathly pale and his eyes remained closed.  When he had hit the ground, his temple had struck a large rock and the grass beneath him was slowly turning red from the large gash on his head.  Blood stained the front of his shirt and a dark pool was seeping through the material of his jeans just below his right knee._
> 
> _For Tom, it was his worst nightmare; his partner lay injured and he had no idea if the wounds were fatal._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590889760/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Epicinium**  

Opening his eyes, Tom gazed around the brightly lit hospital room in confusion.  Slowly, the memory of the day’s events filtered into his mind and he suddenly became aware of a dull pain in his shoulder.  Looking down, he saw that a sling supported his left arm and an intravenous line pumped fluid into a vein in his right.  Struggling to a sitting position, he slid his fingers inside the blue hospital gown and gently probed the bandaged wound.  He grimaced as a sharp pain radiated around the area where the bullet had torn through his deltoid muscle and the surrounding connective tissue.  Beads of perspiration broke out on his top lip and a wave of dizziness caused his vision to blur.  Leaning forward, he concentrated on not throwing up and gradually the bilious feeling passed, leaving him feeling weak and shaky.  As he wiped a trembling hand over his mouth, he tried to make sense of what had happened.  Closing his eyes, he remembered Dennis screaming his name as the sound of a firing gun echoed across the school car park.  His stomach lurched when he recalled strong hands grabbing him and throwing him to the ground just before a stray bullet struck his shoulder.  When an image of Booker, lying bloody and motionless on the grass filled his mind, he finally lost the battle against his nausea and turning his head, he bent over the side of the bed and vomited violently onto the floor.  As he retched up his last meal, tears of shame and regret filled his brown eyes.  Booker’s injuries were his fault; he should never have let a petty argument impede his capabilities as a police officer.  He was on assignment, he should have been vigilant but instead, he had let his guard down and allowed his emotions to interfere with his job.  He had screwed up and now he had to face the real possibility that Dennis was dead because of his negligence.

Collapsing back against the flat hospital pillow, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as tears trickled down his face.  His shoulder throbbed painfully but he felt no pity for himself.  He deserved to be in pain because he had violated the police officers' code… he had failed his partner.  It was an unforgivable sin within the force and he was prepared to take his punishment.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present and turning his head, he saw a young nurse enter his room.  When she saw the vomit on the floor an expression of concern crossed her face and hurrying forward, she gently placed a cool hand against his flushed cheek. “Are you feeling nauseous?”

Hanson wiped a hand over his teary eyes and shook his head.  “Not anymore,” he replied quietly.  As the nurse turned away, he grabbed at her arm. “Please, can you tell me how my partner is?”

The nurse gave him a compassionate look. “I’m sorry, I don’t know.  But there’s a police officer called Doug whose been pacing up and down outside your room for hours.  Would you like to speak to him?”

Tom nodded his head. “Yeah," he muttered, “I would.”

“Okay,” the young nurse replied, “just let me clean up this mess and I’ll go and get him.”

Hanson remained silent as the nurse quickly mopped up the puddle of vomit at the side of his bed.  When she was finished, she turned and faced him.  “Are you in any pain?” she asked whilst holding his wrist in her hand so she could check his pulse.

“No,” Tom lied, “I’m fine.  Please, I just want to see my friend.”

With a nod of her head, the nurse left the room.  Several minutes later, Doug hurried through the door, his normally cheerful expression now showing signs of strain.  “Jesus Hanson,” he muttered in a worried voice and pulling up a chair, he sat down at Tom’s bedside.  “What the hell happened?”

Tom ignored Doug’s question.  “Booker,” he spluttered, “is he okay?”

Penhall rubbed nervously at his chin.  “He’s in intensive care,” he replied quietly.  

The color drained from Tom’s face and he covered his mouth with his hand.  “Shit,” he mumbled.  “How bad is he?”

Sensing Tom’s distress, Doug leaned over and placing a comforting hand on his friend’s arm, he gave it a reassuring squeeze.  “Hey,” he murmured, “you need to concentrate on getting better.  I’m sure Booker will be fi—”

“It was my fault!” Tom cried out in anguish.  “I was arguing with him and I didn’t even see the shooter.  He pushed me out of the way and if it wasn’t for him, _I’d_ be the one in intensive care… or worse, I could be dead!  So for fuck’s sake Doug, tell me how he is!”

As fresh tears trickled down Tom’s face, Penhall stood up and gently pulled his friend into a clumsy embrace.  “Shhh,” he comforted softly, “just remember, what I’m about to say sounds bad but the doctors are—”

“Doug please,” Tom sobbed wearily, “just tell me.”  

“Okay,” Penhall sighed with resignation. “The bullet to Booker’s chest exited through his back and he’s had surgery to repair the damage.  They also removed the bullet in his leg.  Both surgeries went well but he hit his head when he fell and until he wakes up, they won’t know how bad the head injury is.  That’s all I know.  Fuller’s sitting with him because his parents are overseas and we haven’t been able to contact them.”

Tom struggled out of Doug’s arms and pulling back the sheet, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “I need… to see him,” he panted as perspiration beaded on his forehead.  “I need…”

When Tom’s eyes started to roll back, Penhall quickly intervened.  Placing his hand on Tom’s uninjured shoulder, he gently pushed him back against the pillow.  “You’re not going anywhere pal,” he replied in a firm voice.  “You’ve had surgery and you need to take it easy for a few days.”

As Doug carefully lifted his legs back onto the bed and covered him with the thin, white hospital sheet, Tom threw an arm across his face and quietly sobbed. Never in his life had he felt so ashamed.

**

Tom  stared morosely at the unappetizing meal on the plate in front of him and with a heavy sigh, he pushed the table away and sank back against his pillow.  He had been in hospital for two days and although his wound was healing nicely, Booker’s prognosis was not so positive.  His surgeries had been successful but the young officer remained in a coma and until he woke up, no one could predict if he would make a full recovery.

The sound of Penhall’s cheery voice calling out to the nurses pulled Tom from his thoughts.  Looking up, he managed a small smile as Doug bounced into his room clutching a bouquet of limp flowers.  

“For you!” Penhall exclaimed as he bowed theatrically.  

“Thanks,” Tom replied quietly and taking the flowers, he placed them on the table next to his uneaten meal.

Pulling up a chair, Doug gave his friend a lopsided grin.  “Why so glum chum?” he inquired merrily.  “Haven’t you heard the news?”

“What news?” Tom asked dispassionately.  “And just so you know Doug, I’m not really in the mood for any of your jokes.”

Doug pretended to look wounded before turning his attention to Tom’s uneaten food.  “Are you done with this?”

Hanson let out a small chuckle.  “Help yourself,” he replied and he watched in amusement as Doug shoveled down the cold meatloaf.  “So what’s this news?”

Putting down his fork, Doug wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “Booker,” he muttered through a mouthful of food, “he’s showing signs of waking up.”

Tom sat upright in bed with such force that pain shot through his injured shoulder.  “Shit!” he gasped and leaning forward, he held onto his injured arm.  “Fuck!”

“Whoa Hanson, take it easy!” Doug exclaimed and jumping out of his chair, he placed a comforting hand on Tom’s back.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine,” Tom replied through gritted teeth.  “Tell me… about… Booker.”

Penhall waited until the color had returned to Tom’s face before helping him to lie back against the pillows.  “He’s opened his eyes and there’s some movement in his arms,” he explained as he pulled the covers back over Tom.  “If he keeps improving they’re going to move him out of ICU in the next few days.”

Tears filled Tom’s eyes.  Seeing the distress on his friend’s face, Doug immediately became concerned.  “Should I get the nurse?” he asked in a worried voice.  “Do you need some pain medication?”

Tom shook his head as the tears slowly trickled down his face.  He was too emotional to speak and too embarrassed to admit that the tears were not from pain, they were for Dennis.

**

_Two  days later_

Tom stood at the window and silently watched as dark storm clouds rolled across the city skies.  Heavy rain drummed against the glass pane and the sound had a hypnotic effect, helping him to feel calm.  As he continued to gaze vacantly out at the downpour, a blinding flash of lightning split open the leaden sky and he jumped as a loud rumble of thunder followed shortly after.  Shivering slightly, he turned away from the window and pulled his robe protectively around his slender body.  He knew that he could not put it off any longer; his doctor was discharging him in the morning and before he left, he needed to see Booker.

Walking out into the corridor, he turned left and headed towards room 304.  Penhall had informed him that Booker had left ICU the day before and that he continued to show signs of improvement.  Although Tom knew that the officer would be unaware that he had visited, he needed to do it for his own peace of mind.  The guilt he carried over the shooting was causing him sleepless nights and he wanted to tell Booker that he was sorry.  No one could tell him for certain whether a coma patient was conscious of what went on around them but on the off chance that Dennis could hear him, he needed to say the words out loud.

As he approached Booker’s room, he felt his nervousness increase and stopping outside, he took several moments to calm himself before he walked into the room.

Dennis lay on the bed covered only by a sheet.  A large drainage tube protruded from beneath the white bandage that concealed the wound on his chest and several butterfly strips held together the gash on the side of his forehead.  An intravenous line pumped saline into a vein in his right arm and a blood pressure cuff was attached to his left.  However, the most surprising observation for Tom was that his eyes remained closed.  Penhall had explained to him in great length that when he had visited, it gave him goose bumps to see Booker staring off into space and it was that sight that Tom had been dreading the most.  But now, as he looked down at Booker’s face, he felt a shiver of apprehension.  He had no idea if Booker’s closed eyes was a good thing or a bad thing but he hoped with all his heart that it did not mean that he had suffered a setback.  

Moving closer to the side of the bed, he hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking Dennis’ hand in his.  “Hey,” he whispered as he gently squeezed the lifeless fingers, “I just wanted you to know that—”  

However, the rest of his words caught in his throat as Booker opened his eyes and gazed up at him in confusion. “Who are _you?”  
_


	3. The Pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Please note: I am aware that waking from a coma is not as I have depicted it in this story. Instead of writing how it would happen in "real life", I have instead decided to adopt the "as seen in the movies" approach. Please do not hold it against me, I did it because I didn't want to drag out Booker's recovery. I hope you understand.**
> 
> **OpenPage xx**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom stood at the window and silently watched as dark storm clouds rolled across the city skies.  Heavy rain drummed against the glass pane and the sound had a hypnotic effect, helping him to feel calm.  As he continued to gaze vacantly out at the downpour, a blinding flash of lightning split open the leaden sky and he jumped as a loud rumble of thunder followed shortly after.  Shivering slightly, he turned away from the window and pulled his robe protectively around his slender body.  He knew that he could not put it off any longer; his doctor was discharging him in the morning and before he left, he needed to see Booker._
> 
> _Walking out into the corridor, he turned left and headed towards room 304.  Penhall had informed him that Booker had left ICU the day before and that he continued to show signs of improvement.  Although Tom knew that the officer would be unaware that he had visited, he needed to do it for his own peace of mind.  The guilt he carried over the shooting was causing him sleepless nights and he wanted to tell Booker that he was sorry.  No one could tell him for certain whether a coma patient was conscious of what went on around them but on the off chance that Dennis could hear him, he needed to say the words out loud._
> 
> _As he approached Booker’s room, he felt his nervousness increase and stopping outside, he took several moments to calm himself before he walked into the room._
> 
> _Dennis lay on the bed covered only by a sheet.  A large drainage tube protruded from beneath the white bandage that concealed the wound on his chest and several butterfly strips held together the gash on the side of his forehead.  An intravenous line pumped saline into a vein in his right arm and a blood pressure cuff was attached to his left.  However, the most surprising observation for Tom was that his eyes remained closed.  Penhall had explained to him in great length that when he had visited, it gave him goose bumps to see Booker staring off into space and it was what Tom had been dreading the most.  But now, as he looked down at Booker’s face, he felt a shiver of apprehension.  He had no idea if Booker’s closed eyes was a good thing or a bad thing but he hoped with all his heart that it did not mean that he had suffered a setback._
> 
> _Moving closer to the side of the bed, he hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking Dennis’ hand in his.  “Hey,” he whispered as he gently squeezed the lifeless fingers.  “I just wanted you to know that—”_
> 
> _However, the rest of his words caught in his throat as Booker opened his eyes and gazed up at him in confusion.  “Who are you?”_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590889060/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**The Pretender**  

Taken aback by Booker’s words, Tom pulled his hand away and stared back open-mouthed.  “Um, I’m Tom,” he replied in a shaky voice.

Booker’s face relaxed slightly and he gave Hanson a weary smile. “Hey Tom, my name’s Dennis… Dennis Booker.  Well at least that’s what they’re telling me.”

“You don’t remember?” Tom asked cautiously.

Tears glinted in Booker’s dark eyes.  “No,” he replied quietly.  “I woke up last night not knowing my name or anything about my life.  My mind is completely blank.  All I know is what they’re telling me.”

“Shit,” Tom whispered, “I’m really sorry.”

Dennis rubbed at his watery eyes and managed to give Tom a small smile.  “Not your problem.”  A long silence hung in the air before he spoke again.  “So Tom, what happened to your arm?”

As Tom fingered the material of his sling, an idea formed in his mind.  If Booker did not know who he was, he could be there to help him through the difficult times until he got his memory back.  He told himself it was an innocuous lie, Booker needed a friend and he could be that person without all the past animosities hanging over them.  What he did not admit to himself was that he was also doing it to alleviate his sense of guilt.  It was much easier to be Dennis’ new friend than have to admit that he was partially responsible for his current situation because he had not been doing his job properly.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he gave Booker a smile.  “Baseball injury,” he lied.

Booker gave him a sympathetic look.  “Too bad.  Will you still be able to play?”

Tom lowered his head in embarrassment at the lie but Booker misinterpreted it as disappointment and regret.  Taking hold of Tom’s hand, he gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze.  “I’m sure you’ll be back on the mound in no time,” he encouraged.

Desperate to change the conversation, Hanson gently extricated his fingers and gave Dennis a quizzical look.  “So what exactly have they told you?”

Dennis let out a heavy sigh and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.  “ _Apparently_ I’m a police officer and I was shot in the line of duty.  I hit my head and they think that’s why I have amnesia but they’re hoping it’s only temporary.”

“And if it’s not?” Tom asked in a quiet voice.

Booker lowered his gaze and stared despondently at the floor.  “I don’t know,” he muttered.  “I guess I start my life again.”

It was Tom’s turn to offer comfort and leaning forward, he laid his hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “I’m sure you’ll be fine,” he replied in a soothing tone.  “I’ve heard about cases like these and they always turn out okay.”

A small smile played over Booker’s lips.  “Now you’re just bullshitting me but I appreciate the effort Tommy.”  He paused for a moment and gave Hanson a shy look.  “Can I call you Tommy?”

Hanson found himself so caught up in the lie that he completely forgot that the only time Booker called him Tommy was to piss him off.  “Sure,” he replied with a grin, “Tommy’s fine.”

Booker sighed contentedly and closing his eyes, he relaxed back against his pillow.  For the first time since waking up, he did not feel so alone.  His commanding officer had been in to see him just hours after he came out of his coma but he had found the situation so overwhelming that he had asked him to leave.  As he lay sobbing in the arms of a sympathetic nurse, he had requested that he receive no more visits from his colleagues until he had his memory back.  It was too confusing and he did not want to contend with trying to remember who the unfamiliar faces were and how they fitted into his life.  The doctor explained to him that his parents and sister were overseas and that he was currently trying to contact them.  However, Dennis felt no anguish at not having his family at his bedside, as he could not even picture their faces in his mind.  The doctor could have told him he was an orphan and he would not have questioned it.  Until his memory returned, he was essentially alone.  He had no family, no colleagues and no friends.  

That was until now.  Now he had Tom.

Feeling movement beside him, he opened his eyes and saw that Tom was now standing by his bed.  Tears of fatigue filled his dark eyes and reaching out, he grasped hold of his hand.  “Don’t go,” he pleaded in a soft voice.  “I could really use a friend right about now.”

Hanson bit down on his lower lip.  He was starting to think that he had made a monumental mistake by pretending he did not know Booker but he had already taken the lie too far.  He had committed himself, the deception was now firmly established and there was no turning back, even if he wanted to.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, he gave Dennis a supportive smile.  “I can stay for a little bit longer,” he replied gently, “but I’m seeing my doctor in an hour about getting released tomorrow.”

Booker’s lower lip pushed into a soft pout.  “You’re leaving tomorrow?” he asked gloomily.

“Hopefully,” Tom replied cheerfully.  However, as he studied Dennis’ dejected expression, he pushed aside his reservations and reaching out, he took hold of his hand.  “But if you want, I can come and visit.”

Dennis’ face relaxed and he gave Hanson a relieved smile.  “Thanks Tommy, I’d really like that.”

“No problem,” Tom replied but deep down, he knew that in reality, the complications were only just beginning.

**

_The following day_

Tom sat on the edge of his bed and waited for Penhall to arrive.  He was happy that he was leaving hospital but the guilt he felt for Booker’s situation had intensified tenfold.  It did not seem fair that he was walking out with an injury that would eventually heal whereas Booker’s future remained shrouded in uncertainty.  All he could hope was that he could make Dennis’ life a little happier by being his friend, at least until his memory returned and then he would face the wrath of the man who had always hated him.

When Penhall entered the room, he stood up and grabbed his small overnight bag.  “Let’s go,” he instructed quietly.

“Whoa,” Doug replied cheerfully.  “Hold your horses Hanson.  I know you’re eager to get out of here but I just spoke to your doctor and he’s organizing some pain medication for you to take home, just in case you need it.”

Sitting back down on the bed, Tom’s lips formed into a petulant pout.  “They’ve had all day to do that.  Why do they leave everything to the last minute?”

Doug grinned in amusement and sat down next to Tom.  “Gee Hanson, I guess they forgot how important you are,” he quipped.

Sighing heavily, Tom managed a small smile.  “Sorry.  I’m just anxious to get out of here.”

Carefully placing an arm around his friend’s shoulders, Doug gave him a gentle hug.  “I know you are buddy, but it’ll only be a little while longer and then you’ll be a free man.”

Tom remained silent as he chewed anxiously on his lower lip.  He desperately wanted to tell Penhall about how he was deceiving Booker by pretending he did not know him, but he did not know how to start the conversation.  However, moments later, Doug gave him an opening.  “Now that Booker's awake, Fuller tried to see him again but he doesn’t want any visitors.”

Lowering his eyes, Tom ran a trembling hand through his hair.  “Doug, do you think it’s okay to lie to someone if it’s for their benefit?”

Somewhat surprised by the change of conversation, Penhall gave Tom a quizzical look.  “That came out of left field,” he replied quietly.  “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?  Is it something to do with Booker?”

Hanson’s face flushed red.  “Yeah,” he muttered.  “I kind of did something stupid.”

Penhall narrowed his eyes.  “Okay, so you did something stupid, it can’t be that bad.”

Lifting his head, Tom gazed into Doug’s gentle eyes.  “It’s not that good either,” he confessed.  He paused for a long moment before continuing.  “I sort of lied to Booker and let him believe we don't know each other.”

Doug’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “Why would you do that?” he asked in bewilderment.  “Geez Hanson, he’s suffering from amnesia.  Don’t you think by lying to him that you’re just going to confuse him more?”

“I know that!” Tom cried out and getting to his feet, he began to pace up and down the small room.  “But that’s not why I did it.  I wanted to make it up to him and I knew he wouldn’t let me if he knew who I was.  I made a mistake but I can’t take it back, not now… I’m all he’s got.”

“Shit,” Doug murmured softly.  “I’ve got to say Hanson, this isn’t the best idea you’ve ever come up with.  How do you think he’s going to feel when he realizes who you are?”

Sitting down in a chair, Tom’s shoulders slumped in defeat.  “I have to tell him,” he stated quietly.  “I can’t keep lying to him to ease my own guilt.”

“Are you kidding?  Of course you can’t tell him!” Doug exclaimed.  “Jesus Hanson, you can’t mess with Booker’s head like that!  You have to keep the lie going, otherwise he won’t know what to believe.”

Tom groaned loudly.  “I know… I know.  Shit!  Why did I think this was a good idea?  All I’ve done is make everything worse.”

When the doctor walked into the room, Doug stood up and patted Tom on the back.  “I can’t disagree with you there Hanson,” he chuckled.  “It looks like from now until Booker gets his memory back, you and he are going to be the best of friends.”

**

Dennis lay in his darkened room listening to the sound of the nurses’ conversations as they carried out their nightly routines.  He was tired but it was too noisy for him to sleep and he stared absently at the chink of light under his closed door that flickered in random patterns as soft-soled shoes continuously scurried back and forth along the corridor outside.  Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and thought about the last twenty-four hours of his life, which were in essence, the _first_ twenty-four hours of his life.  He remembered the fear he had felt when he could not remember his name and how he had stared intently at Adam Fuller, willing his mind to remember the man’s face.  However, no matter how hard he tried, the man in front of him had remained a stranger and he had become so distressed that the doctor had ushered Fuller from his room as he sobbed out his anguish against the chest of a sympathetic nurse.

At the memory, a single tear trickled down his cheek.  He had a mother, father and sister and yet he could not remember a single Christmas, birthday or the day of his graduation.  He was an undercover police officer but he could not imagine himself holding a gun.  Nothing in his life seemed real and he felt as though he were in a dream.  All he knew for certain was that he needed to be careful, every person in the world was a stranger to him and even though he could not think of a reason why anyone would lie to him, he could trust no one.

Except for Tom.  Tom was different and he knew in his heart that he could depend on him.  As he saw Tom’s face in his mind, it slowly dawned on him that he felt a sexual attraction towards the slender young man and his face flushed red when he realized that he must be gay or at the very least, bisexual.  He wondered if he was open about his sexuality with his friends and family and again, he felt an overwhelming sense of isolation.  It was then that he made the decision not to disclose his sexuality to his new friend in case the revelation scared him off.  He was in desperate need of friendship and Tom was all he had in a world that was strange and unfamiliar to him.

Wiping the stray tears from his face, he closed his eyes and gave himself a silent pep talk.  He was not alone, he had Tom and he was more than happy to have the attractive young man in his life.  



	4. Senses Growing Keen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I have allowed myself some poetic license in this chapter for dramatic effect. I am well aware that it would _not_ happen this way in real life :)**
> 
> **In peace,**   
>  **OpenPage x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Dennis lay in his darkened room listening to the sound of the nurses’ conversations as they carried out their nightly routines. He was tired but it was too noisy for him to sleep and he stared absently at the chink of light under his closed door that flickered in random patterns as soft-soled shoes continuously scurried back and forth along the corridor outside. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and thought about the last twenty-four hours of his life, which were in essence, the first twenty-four hours of his life. He remembered the fear he had felt when he could not remember his name and how he had stared intently at Adam Fuller, willing his mind to remember the man’s face. However, no matter how hard he tried, the man in front of him had remained a stranger and he had become so distressed that the doctor had ushered Fuller from his room as he sobbed out his anguish against the chest of a sympathetic nurse._
> 
> _At the memory, a single tear trickled down his cheek. He had a mother, father and sister and yet he could not remember a single Christmas, birthday or the day of his graduation. He was an undercover police officer but he could not imagine himself holding a gun. Nothing in his life seemed real and he felt as though he were in a dream. All he knew for certain was that he needed to be careful, every person in the world was a stranger to him and even though he could not think of a reason why anyone would lie to him, he could trust no one._
> 
> _Except for Tom. Tom was different and he knew in his heart that he could depend on him. As he saw Tom’s face in his mind, it slowly dawned on him that he felt a sexual attraction towards the slender young man and his face flushed red when he realized that he must be gay or at the very least, bisexual. He wondered if he was open about his sexuality with his friends and family and again, he felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. It was then that he made the decision not to disclose his sexuality to his new friend in case the revelation scared him off. He was in desperate need of friendship and Tom was all he had in a world that was strange and unfamiliar to him._
> 
> _Wiping the stray tears from his face, he closed his eyes and gave himself a silent pep talk. He was not alone, he had Tom and he was more than happy to have the attractive young man in his life._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888980/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Senses Growing Keen**  

Arriving at the hospital the following day, Tom was still struggling with a crisis of conscience.  He now knew that he had acted impulsively and that pretending not to know Dennis was a stupid thing to have done.  However, he also realized that it was too late to own up to his lie; he would have to continue with the charade for Dennis’ sake, otherwise the fallout could be catastrophic.  Booker’s amnesia made him emotionally fragile and in all likelihood, it would now do him more harm than good to know the truth.  

In an effort to alleviate his guilt, he stopped at the hospital gift shop and bought several motorcycle magazines.  He knew that Booker was a keen rider and he hoped that the small gift would help to cheer him up.  It was beyond his imagination to understand how Dennis must be feeling but he honestly hoped that he would be able to give the young officer some comfort and reassurance during his road to recovery.

With the magazines in hand, he caught the elevator up to the third floor.  As he walked down the corridor, several nurses greeted him and he stopped and spoke to them for several minutes.  When he continued on his way, he felt his nervousness return and clutching the magazines tightly in his hand, he tried to push aside his trepidation.  There was the off chance that when he entered the room, Booker would be sitting there ready to verbally attack him because his memory had returned.  However, he knew it was a small probability and shaking away the unsettling thought, he stopped outside of room 304, took a deep breath and walked in.

When he saw Booker’s face light up, his reservations immediately disappeared and he returned a bright smile.  “Hey, you’re looking better.”

“Thanks,” Dennis replied happily before his expression became shy.  “I didn’t think you’d come back.”

Pulling up a chair, Tom sat down.  “I said I would,” he grinned.  Unfolding the crumpled magazines, he handed them to Dennis.  “Here, I thought you might be getting bored.”

As he stared down at the glossy journals, Dennis’ brow knitted into a deep frown.  “How did you know I like motorcycles?” he asked quietly.

Swallowing deeply, Tom ran a trembling hand over his mouth.  “I uh… didn’t,” he replied with a nervous smile.  “There wasn’t much choice in the gift shop and I figured you wouldn’t be interested in celebrity gossip.”

Booker’s frown deepened as he continued to stare at the cover of the magazine in his hand.  Several minutes passed before he returned his gaze to Tom.  “Can you do me a favor?” 

Eager to change the conversation, Tom nodded his head.  “Sure, whatever you want.”

Dennis pulled anxiously at his lower lip before making his request in a soft voice.  “In the cupboard, tell me if there’s a black leather jacket hanging in there.”

Tom kept his expression neutral but deep inside, his anxiety levels were rising.  Seeing the picture of the motorcycle had stirred something deep within the recesses of Booker’s memory and even though he knew it was a positive sign, it also signaled the end of his charade.  As each memory formed, Dennis would be one-step closer to finding out the truth; that he had been lying to him from the very beginning because he was too afraid to admit what he had done.

Getting to his feet, he walked over to the tall, narrow cupboard and opened the door.  Hanging inside was Booker’s black leather jacket.  The inanimate object mocked him with its effectiveness to expose him for what he really was... a fraud.  His shame was so overwhelming that perspiration began to bead above his top lip and hiding his face behind the open door, he screwed his eyes closed and struggled to think of a way out.  However, when his mind came up blank he knew he had no choice and sighing heavily, he reached into the cupboard and pulled out the jacket.  

Booker’s eyes grew wide and he chewed frantically on his lower lip.  “I knew,” he whispered, as tears of relief blurred his vision.  “Oh God Tommy, I _remembered_ something!”

Laying the jacket on the chair, Tom sat down on the bed and gave Dennis a genuine smile.  As much as he hated the thought of explaining his actions to his nemesis, he was truly relieved that Booker’s memory was beginning to filter back.  He had no idea how much longer it would take before his full memory returned but he made up his mind to continue to support him in any way he could.  Since the shooting, he had seen a different side to Booker, a gentler, more considerate aspect of his personality was shining through and he actually _liked_ the man lying in the hospital bed in front of him.  It was not an easy thing to admit to himself but it was true.  _Amnesia Booker_ was someone that he would like to get to know better even though the thought was somewhat disconcerting.

Realizing that he had not spoken, he reached out and gave Booker’s hand a squeeze.  “That’s fantastic Dennis,” he enthused.  “Maybe we should call a doctor.”

Booker shook his head violently from side to side.  “Nuh-uh,” he replied hurriedly.  “They’ll take me off for scans and God knows what else and I want to spend some time with you.  I’ll tell them after you leave, I promise.”

Tom smiled.  “Okay,” he agreed and as unsettling as it was, he was secretly pleased to have more time to get to know the enigma that was Dennis Booker.

**

As he had predicted, as soon as Booker spoke about remembering his leather jacket, a nurse notified his doctor and he immediately found himself in radiology waiting for an MRI scan of his brain.  He returned to his room hours later feeling tired but happy and he hungrily wolfed down the sandwiches that the food service worker had left on his table.  When he had finished, he lay back against his pillows and closing his eyes, he recalled the time he had spent with Tom.

He found his new friend a bit of a mystery.  Although friendly and kind, Tom was extremely evasive about his life.  He said he was studying music at college, which was where he had injured his arm.  However, the more Booker quizzed him about it, the vaguer he became until eventually he turned the conversation to the general topic of sport.  Although curious, Dennis did not push.  He enjoyed Tom’s company and he wanted him to continue visiting.  It was tedious lying in bed with no one to talk to for hours at a time and he longed for the day when the doctor removed his drainage tube so that he could start physiotherapy on his leg.  Although he knew the rehabilitation would be tough, it would at least breakup the day.  He had only been awake for two days and already he was fantasizing about leaving hospital and living his life, hopefully with his memories intact.  However, even if his memories did not return, he was confident that he would cope, especially if he had his friend by his side.

Sighing contentedly, he relaxed his body and allowed images of Tom’s face to float into his mind.  His lips twitched into a smile as he felt his cock reacting to his thoughts.  It was a relief to know that despite his injuries, everything still worked as it should.  Moving his hand under the covers, he lifted up his gown and lightly trailed his fingertip up and down his growing erection.  A soft moan of pleasure escaped his lips and his body squirmed beneath his touch.  He knew he needed to be discreet, his door was open and a nurse could arrive at any moment to check his vitals.  Wrapping his finger and thumb around his growing erection, he began to move his hand up and down his shaft and his pleasure immediately intensified.  He took his time reacquainting himself with his body and he shuddered in delight at the sensation that tingled through his nerves.  Precum leaked from his slit and his breathing became shallow as he gently twisted his hand during every downward motion, sending shock waves through his body.  Increasing the pressure, he built up speed, working his hand faster and faster over his aching erection.  As he felt his orgasm rising, he bit down hard on his lower lip and stifling a cry, he climaxed forcefully over his stomach.  

Slowing his hand, he opened his eyes and gazed worriedly around the room.  He heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still empty.  The wound in his chest throbbed dully from the exertion and heavy breathing but he barely registered the pain.  He felt sated and calm from his release and he smiled contentedly.  Even though he knew he would never have sex with Tom, he assured himself that there was no harm in using his image in his fantasies.  Tom was so beautiful and he knew he would experience many explosive orgasms whilst imagining his full lips moving seductively up and down his cock.

It was his guilty secret and he would not divulge it to anyone.

**

Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, Tom opened his refrigerator and taking out a beer, he walked back into the living room and flopped down onto the couch with a sigh.  He picked up the remote and flicking through the channels, he settled on a hockey game.  Taking a large sip of beer, he stared distractedly at the television as his mind returned to his visit to the hospital.  It bothered him that he found Booker’s company so companionable.  He had always found the dark haired officer to be egotistical and opinionated but since the shooting, he had uncovered his vulnerable side and he liked what he saw.  Dennis was amusing, intelligent and surprisingly philosophical in his thinking.  His personality showed no signs of the arrogance and sarcasm that Tom had come to loathe in the six months he had known him and it opened up all kinds of possibilities for the future.  If the man lying in the hospital were in fact the real Dennis Booker, then working with him would be much easier than it had been in the past and he could see a genuine friendship forming from the ashes of their previous animosity.  All he could hope was that Dennis would not revert to his old ways now that he was on the verge of regaining his memory.

Finishing off his beer, he kicked off his shoes and lay down on the couch.  He had promised Dennis that he would visit him again the following day and he was actually looking forward to discovering another piece of the Dennis Booker puzzle.

**

Dennis’ eyes flew open and his chest rose and fell painfully as he gasped for breath.  His hospital gown clung to his sweat soaked body and his dark hair stuck to his head in damp curls.  The nightmare had been so vivid and yet so surreal.  _He and Tom arguing under a tree… a flash of metal… gunshots… him pushing Tom to the ground… searing pain… blackness._

Struggling to a sitting position, he fumbled for the switch above his bed and his room flooded with harsh light.  Closing his eyes, he attempted to make sense of his vision.  He recalled calling out Tom’s name and it was then that he knew it was not a dream, it was a reality; Tom had been by his side when he was shot.

It was as though that one recollection was the key to unlocking the door to all his memories.  Without warning, thousands of thoughts, faces and feelings flooded into his mind and completely overwhelmed his senses.  Crying out, he held his head in his hands and rocked his body back and forth as he tried to stem the flow that threatened his sense of reality.  It was too much, too quick and he felt a physical pain in his heart.  He was drowning in a sea of emotion and there was no one there to save him.

“No!  No!  No!” he screamed.  “I can’t take it!  I can’t take it!  I can’t take _IT!”_

Hearing Dennis’ distressed cry, a nurse hurried in and rushing over to his bed, she held him in her arms as tears streamed down his face and his body trembled uncontrollably.  Even through the trauma he had experienced in the last few days, he had been happy but now he knew the truth and his world was crashing in around him.  

Tom was not his friend, he was his adversary and he had intentionally set out to hurt him.  



	5. The Truth Is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Dennis’ eyes flew open and his chest rose and fell painfully as he gasped for breath. His hospital gown clung to his sweat soaked body and his dark hair stuck to his head in damp curls. The nightmare had been so vivid and yet so surreal. He and Tom arguing under a tree… the flash of metal… gunshots… him pushing Tom to the ground… searing pain… blackness._
> 
> _Struggling to a sitting position, he fumbled for the switch above his bed and his room flooded with harsh light. Closing his eyes, he attempted to make sense of his vision. He recalled calling out Tom’s name and it was then that he knew it was not a dream, it was a reality; Tom had been by his side when he was shot._
> 
> _It was as though that one recollection was the key to unlocking the door to all his memories. Without warning, thousands of thoughts, faces and feelings flooded into his mind and completely overwhelmed his senses. Crying out, he held his head in his hands and rocked his body back and forth as he tried to stem the flow that threatened his sense of reality. It was too much, too quick and he felt a physical pain in his heart. He was drowning in a sea of emotion and there was no one there to save him._
> 
> _“No! No! No!” he screamed. “I can’t take it! I can’t take it! I can’t take IT!”_
> 
> _Hearing Dennis’ distressed cry, a nurse hurried in and rushing over to his bed, she held him in her arms as tears streamed down his face and his body trembled uncontrollably. Even through the trauma he had experienced in the last few days, he had been happy but now he knew the truth and his world was crashing in around him._
> 
> _Tom was not his friend, he was his adversary and he had intentionally set out to hurt him._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888830/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**The Truth Is...**  

Striding down the hospital corridor, Tom grinned happily to himself.  He had stopped at the bakery and purchased half a dozen jelly donuts for Booker and he hoped that his gesture would help to cement his relationship with his new friend.  It was a standing joke around the Chapel that Dennis _always_ ate the jellies and although Tom knew it was a risk bringing in the _exact_ same donuts that he liked, it was a gamble he was prepared to take.  It was not as though it was an unusual liking; half the population of America probably chose jellies over any other type of donut.  Therefore, he felt safe indulging Booker with his favorite dessert.  

Walking into Booker’s room, his smile broadened.  “Hey Dennis, I thought you might be sick of hospital food so I brought you—”  Stopping mid sentence, he stared in surprise at Booker’s angry face.  “What’s wrong?”

Dennis’ eyes narrowed and he gave Tom a withering look.  “What’s _wrong?”_ he parroted through clenched teeth.  “Gee _Officer_ Hanson, let’s see.  What could _possibly_ be wrong?”

A shiver of foreboding ran down Tom’s spine.  The day he had been dreading had finally dawned, Dennis’ memory had returned and he knew who he was.  Stepping forward, he put down the box of donuts and laid a gentle hand on Booker’s arm.  “Dennis let me explain,” he replied quietly.  “I only did it because—”

“NO!” Booker yelled as he snatched his arm away from Tom’s touch.  “Fuck you Hanson… Fuck YOU!  How could you do this to me, you lying sack of shit!”

Lowering his eyes, Tom’s lower lip pushed into a soft pout.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he mumbled awkwardly.  “I did it to help you.”

Dennis’ eyes flashed with fury.  “ _Help_ me?  That’s bullshit!  Do you hear me?  BULL… FUCKING… _SHIT!_   I _know_ that this is some kind of twisted game to get back at me.  Did you think it was funny to see me so vulnerable and in need of a friend?  Oh I bet you and Penhall had a good laugh at how easily you played me.  Was everyone at the Chapel in on it?  Do you all hate me that much?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Tom muttered regretfully.  “I don’t hate you, I just thought it would be easier to give you support if you didn’t know who I was.”

“ _Really?”_ Booker shot back sarcastically.  “So I suppose it had _nothing_ to do with feeling guilty over the shooting.  If you hadn’t been screaming in my face that day, maybe I would have seen the gunman sooner and none of this would have fucking happened!”

Tom ran a shaky hand across his mouth.  “Okay, maybe that was part of it,” he admitted in a quiet voice.  “But Dennis I wasn’t pretending to be your friend these last few days.  I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and—”

“Get out,” Booker commanded in a low voice.

“Dennis wait,” Tom pleaded quietly.  “Just let me expl—”

“GET OUT!” Booker screamed as angry tears began to stream down his face.  “I hate you Hanson!  I fucking hate you!  Now get out and leave me the hell alone!”

Shocked by the ferocity of Booker’s outburst, Tom turned and quickly exited the room with the police officer’s expletives still ringing in his ears.

**

_Four  weeks later_

Sitting cross-legged on his desk, Tom watched as Booker hobbled into the room with the aid of a wooden cane.  They had not spoken since their argument a month ago and he quickly ducked his head when Dennis shot him a filthy look.

Officer Harry Ioki was fully aware of what had happened between the two men and noticing Dennis’ glare, he nudged Tom and nodded his head towards the angry officer.  “Looks like his little crush on you has worn off,” he smirked.  “I guess he’s not so into you since you ripped his heart out.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hanson gave Harry a quizzical look.  “What the hell are you talking about, who’s not into me anymore?” he asked.

“Dennis,” Ioki replied with a knowing smile.  “He’s had a thing for you since day one.”

Tom snorted.  “Firstly Harry, Booker’s hated me from the first time we met and it was only when he had amnesia and didn’t know who I was that he was nice to me.  Secondly, he dates women not men.”

“Not always,” Officer Judy Hoffs interjected with a wink. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Tom retorted crossly.  “Booker’s not bisexual.”

“Au contraire mon ami,” Judy replied expressively.  “Booker’s definitely dancing with both Ginger _and_ Fred.”

When Tom stared at her in disbelief, Hoffs playfully punched him in the arm.  “God Hanson, you’re so naïve at times,” she huffed in exasperation.  “He’s crazy about you, or at least he was and who can blame him?”

“Yeah,” Harry intervened with a laugh.  “I’d date you if I swung that way.  You’re gorgeous.”

Tom glared angrily at his friends.  “Shut up,” he growled.  “You know how much I hate it when you say that.”

Putting her hand on her hip, Hoffs studied Tom’s face with interest.  “I really can’t figure you out sometimes Hanson,” she confessed.  “Do you just pretend that you don’t know how pretty you are or do you really not see it?”

Jumping down from his desk, Hanson’s scowl deepened.  “You two are really starting to piss me off,” he snarled.  “Why don’t you find someone else to play your childish games with?”  When the two officers burst out laughing, he gave them the finger and walked briskly over to Penhall’s desk.  “God they can be annoying,” he complained to his best friend.  “They really need a case to work on rather than letting their imaginations run away with them.”

Doug looked up from his paperwork.  “What’s the problem?” he asked.

Leaning against the filing cabinet Tom let out a sigh.  “It’s nothing,” he replied quietly, “they’re just trying to get a rise out of me and I guess it worked.”

Penhall’s interest was piqued and leaning back in his chair, he gave Tom his trademark lopsided grin.  “Tell me,” he encouraged.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Tom pushed out his lower lip in annoyance.  “They said Booker’s got a crush on me.”

Doug’s mouth split into a wide grin and leaning forward, he slapped his hand on the desk.  “Of course he does!” he exclaimed.  “Jesus Hanson, I thought you knew!  What rock have you been living under?”

Tom’s brown eyes filled with doubt.  “You can’t be serious,” he muttered.  “There’s no way—”

“Of course there’s a way!” Doug laughed loudly.  However, when he noticed Dennis staring at them from across the room, he quickly lowered his voice.  “Booker’s bi, there’s no doubt about that and he’s had a thing for you since he first laid eyes on you six months ago.”

Rubbing his fingers tentatively over his lips, Hanson cast a furtive glance in Booker’s direction before quickly returning his gaze to Doug.  “Are you sure?” he asked in an uncertain voice.  “Because he’s always taunting me and making my life hell.  Why would he do that if he likes me?”

Sighing in frustration, Penhall gave his friend a measured look.  “Come on Hanson, don’t be stupid.  It’s obvious that the reason he does all those things is so he can have contact with you.  If he didn’t continuously goad you, then you and he would barely talk.”

Doug’s words caused a light bulb moment for Tom and his eyes widened as he slowly came to the realization that what Doug was saying was true.  “Shit,” he mumbled.  “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much Tommy,” Doug consoled with a wicked grin.  “Since he got his memory back it looks like he’s lost that lovin’ feeling.”

Tired of being the butt of everyone’s jokes, Hanson glared at his friend.  “Fuck you Penhall,” he spat furiously.  “I don’t need this bullshit, especially from you.”

With the sound of teasing laughter resonating in his ears, Tom stormed angrily from the Chapel.  He was so engrossed with his feelings of humiliation that he did not notice Booker’s dark eyes follow him as he left the building.

**

Standing at his office door, Captain Adam Fuller watched as Tom stormed from the building.  It did not take Einstein to figure out that Hanson’s outburst had something to do with Booker.  He knew his two young officers too well; both were hotheaded and prone to stubbornness and in fact, they were more alike than either man would care to admit.  However, their extreme dislike of each other was proving to cause serious problems with their job performance and Fuller knew that if they did not reconcile their differences, one of the men would have to transfer to a different department.

Returning to his desk, he picked up the phone and made a call.  He had a plan but he needed to find the right assignment before he could implement it.  Twenty minutes later, he hung up the phone and smiled.  He had found the perfect mission for Tom and Dennis and all he could hope was that by spending time together, they would find the key to rekindling the friendship that had begun to blossom in the hospital.

**

Tom returned to the Chapel carrying four cups of takeaway coffee in a cardboard tray.  He had trouble saying sorry but he knew he had behaved petulantly and he wanted to make it up to his friends.  Walking over to Judy and Harry, he gave them an embarrassed smile.  “Coffee?” he offered quietly.

The two officers exchanged a brief look before turning back to Hanson.  “Sure,” Judy replied softly as she took one of the cardboard cups.  “Thanks Tom.”

“Thanks Hanson,” Harry responded with a smile.  “This sure beats the bitter day old muck I’ve been drinking.”

Nodding silently, Tom turned and walked over to Penhall’s desk.  When Doug ignored him, he cleared his throat noisily and put a coffee down next to his friend.  When he still received no acknowledgement, he blew out his cheeks in frustration.  “Look, I’m sorry okay?” he apologized in a downcast voice.  “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Looking up from his paperwork, Penhall studied Tom’s face before his lips twitched into a lopsided smile.  “Apology accepted,” he replied amiably.  “But seriously Hanson, you need to lighten up.  It was just harmless teasing.”

Tom pulled up a chair and straddling it backwards, he rested his arms on the wooden back.  “I know, I know,” he muttered as he sipped at his coffee.  “It’s just I feel so guilty about Booker and I guess it hit a nerve.”

Doug leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.  “He’s still not talking to you huh?”

Hanson sighed and shook his head.  “No.  I’ve left him a couple of messages but he hasn’t rung me back.  So I was hoping today we’d get to talk face to face but I guess that’s not going to happen.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Doug saw their captain striding towards them wearing a stern expression.  “Heads up,” he warned softly.  “Fuller’s on the rampage.”

Turning his head, Tom gave his superior a quizzical look.  “What’s up Coach?” 

“My office now,” Fuller ordered in a commanding voice.

Tom raised his eyebrows at Penhall and stood up.  “Just me Cap’n?” he queried.

Fuller turned and walked away.  “Just you and Booker,” he replied over his shoulder.

Hanson let out a loud groan.  “Perfect,” he muttered as he followed his superior into his office.  He saw that Booker was already seated, his injured leg stuck out in front of him.  Without waiting to be asked, he flopped down onto the empty chair next to Booker and crossed his arms defiantly across his chest.  He had a horrible feeling that he was not going to like what his captain had to say.

Closing his office door, Fuller walked slowly and purposely behind his desk and sat down.   Leaning his elbows on the worn wooden table, he tented his fingers under his chin and gave his two young charges a calculating look.  “We have a problem,” he stated flatly. 

Booker shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “What problem would that be Coach?” he asked quietly.

Lowering his hands, Fuller pointed purposely at the two men in front of him.  “That would be the two of you,” he replied.

Tom chewed nervously on his lower lip as he cast a glance at Booker.  “What do you mean?”

Tilting back in his chair, Adam Fuller let out a sigh before tenting his fingers under his chin once again.  “I need officers who can work together,” he informed them in a voice tinged with tiredness.  

“Meaning?” Booker asked sullenly.

“ _Meaning_ Booker,” Fuller snapped back irritably, “that if you two don’t start getting along, one of you has to go.”

Tom immediately sat up straight in his chair and gave his superior a disbelieving look.  “Coach you can’t be serious!  Surely you wouldn’t consider keeping him over me?  I was here first and I’m a much better officer than he—”

“Yeah right!” Booker shot back angrily.  “I wasn’t the one throwing a hissy fit in the parking lot when someone tried to kill me!”

Fuller rocked forward in his chair and forcefully slammed both hands down on his desk.  “ENOUGH!” he yelled.  Both men immediately stopped talking and stared at their captain in shock.  They suddenly realized just how serious he was and they both felt a shiver of apprehension course through their bodies.  This could mean the end of one of their careers at the Jump Street program and neither man wanted to be the one sent away.

When he once again had the two young men’s undivided attention, Fuller folded his arms and spoke in a calm voice.  “I’m prepared to give you both a second chance,” he informed them, “but it’s a one shot deal.  If you refuse to do it or return here still bickering like high school girls, I’ll have no choice but to send one of you to another department.  Understood?”

Both officers mumbled _“Yes Cap’n,”_ under their breaths and waited to hear their fate.  

Seeing the apprehension on their faces, Fuller had to suppress a smile.  He found it amusing that both men wore _exactly_ the same expression and presented _exactly_ the same body language.  They were so similar and yet they fought constantly.  Studying their faces, he wondered if it was a subconscious fight for dominance.  Both officers were extremely attractive, fit young men in the prime of their lives and he could not help but think that perhaps Hanson was jealous of Booker.  Tom had always been the one all the women swooned over but when Booker arrived on the scene, he suddenly found himself in competition with someone who was as equally appealing as himself.  It made perfect sense but it did not solve the problem and Fuller knew what he had to do.  Standing up, he walked around to the front of his desk and perching on the wooden surface, he gave his officers a weary sigh.  “I’m sending the two of you on a bonding exercise.”

Hanson opened his mouth in protest but he immediately closed it when he saw his captain’s warning look.  However, Booker was not so judicious.  “What does that mean?” he asked moodily.

Keeping hold of his patience, Fuller gave his disgruntled charge a smile.  “What it means Booker, is that you and Hanson are going on a road trip.  You’ll fly to Omaha, hire a vehicle and drive to Elsmere.  That two-hundred plus miles sitting in a car together should give you enough time to sort out your petty differences.  When you get to Elsmere, you’ll pick up a teenage runaway, drive him back to Omaha and escort him on the plane back to sunny California.  Any questions?”

Booker’s lip pushed into a soft pout.  “It’s fucking freezing in Nebraska this time of year,” he replied sullenly.  

Adam Fuller’s mouth split into an amused smile.  “Well then Booker, I guess you’d better pack your thermals.”  



	6. Wrecked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tilting back in his chair, Adam Fuller let out a sigh before tenting his fingers under his chin once again. “I need officers who can work together,” he informed them in a voice tinged with tiredness._
> 
> _“Meaning?” Booker asked sullenly._
> 
> _“Meaning Booker,” Fuller snapped back irritably. “That if you two don’t start getting along, one of you has to go.”_
> 
> _Tom immediately sat up straight in his chair and gave his superior a disbelieving look. “Coach you can’t be serious? Surely you wouldn’t consider keeping him over me? I was here first and I’m a much better officer than he—”_
> 
> _“Yeah right!” Booker shot back angrily. “I wasn’t the one throwing a hissy fit in the parking lot when someone tried to kill me!”_
> 
> _Fuller rocked forward in his chair and forcefully slammed both hands down on his desk. “ENOUGH!” he yelled. Both men immediately stopped talking and stared at their captain in shock. They suddenly realized just how serious he was and they both felt a shiver of apprehension course through their bodies. This could mean the end of one of their careers at the Jump Street program and neither man wanted to be the one sent away._
> 
> _When he once again had the two young men’s undivided attention, Fuller laid his hands flat on his desk and spoke in a calm voice. “I’m prepared to give you both a second chance,” he informed them. “But it’s a one shot deal. If you refuse to do it or return here still bickering like high school girls, I’ll have no choice but to send one of you to another department. Understood?”_
> 
> _Both officers mumbled “Yes Cap’n,” under their breaths and waited to hear their fate._
> 
> _Seeing the apprehension on their faces, Fuller had to suppress a smile. He found it amusing that both men wore exactly the same expression and presented exactly the same body language. They were so similar and yet they fought constantly. Studying their faces, he wondered if it was a subconscious fight for dominance. Both officers were extremely attractive, fit young men in the prime of their lives and he could not help but think that perhaps Hanson was jealous of Booker. Tom had always been the one all the women swooned over but when Booker arrived on the scene, he suddenly found himself in competition with someone equally as appealing as himself. It made perfect sense but it did not solve the problem and Fuller knew what he had to do. Standing up, he walked around to the front of his desk and perching on the wooden surface, he gave his officers a weary sigh. “I’m sending the two of you on a bonding exercise.”_
> 
> _Hanson opened his mouth in protest but he immediately closed it when he saw his captain’s warning look. However, Booker was not so judicious. “What does that mean?” he asked moodily._
> 
> _Keeping hold of his patience, Fuller gave his disgruntled charge a smile. “What it means Booker, is that you and Hanson are going on a road trip. You’ll fly to Omaha, hire a vehicle and drive to Elsmere. That two-hundred plus miles sitting in a car together should give you enough time to sort out your petty differences. When you get to Elsmere, you’ll pick up a teenage runaway, drive him back to Omaha and escort him on the plane back to sunny California. Any questions?”_
> 
> _Booker’s lip pushed into a soft pout. “It’s fucking freezing in Nebraska this time of year,” he replied sullenly._
> 
> _Adam Fuller’s mouth split into an amused smile. “Well then Booker, I guess you’d better pack your thermals.”_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888690/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Wrecked**  

Booker and Hanson sat in stony silence as the Boeing 767 winged its way from Los Angeles to Omaha.  The plane was crowded with noisy passengers returning from Christmas vacation spent with loved ones.  Staring moodily out of the window, Tom could feel his irritation rising as the tinny sound of loud music leaked from the headphones of Dennis’ Walkman.  He wanted to yell at him to turn the volume down but his petulant mood prevented him from being the one to make first contact.  His heart still carried the weight of his captain’s words and he felt betrayed by the man who over the years, he had come to admire.  That Fuller would even contemplate transferring him to another department was crushing to his ego.  He had always considered himself a team player but all that had dramatically changed when Booker joined the program.  They had got off to a shaky start and it had only gone downhill from there.  That was until the shooting.  It was then that he had seen another side to Booker, a softer, less abrasive side.  However, the glimpse had been fleeting and now they were back to square one.  He disliked Booker, Booker disliked him and unless they patched up their differences, one of them was looking at a new career path.

As the pilot announced their descent, Tom turned away from the window and buckled his seat belt.  Casting a quick glance at Booker, he let out a quiet expletive when he saw him reclined in his seat with his eyes closed, a peaceful expression radiating across his face.  The dark haired officer was the picture of composure and it infuriated Tom to think that he could be so confident that _he_ would not be the one sacked from the Jump Street program if they did not figure out a way to get along.

**

When the flight attendant tapped Dennis on the shoulder, he pulled off his headphones and put his seat in the upright position.  Listening to Guns N’ Roses had helped somewhat to alleviate his fears of Fuller sending him back to Internal Affairs but he still felt uptight.   He knew he was skilled at exuding an outer calm but inside, he was a tight knot of anxiety.  Although not exceptionally close to any of his co-workers at the Chapel, he enjoyed the job immensely and he did not want to go back to investigating the misconduct of his fellow officers.  When he had joined the force, it had never been his intention to become a nark.  He had always imagined having a partner, someone he trusted with his life and side by side, they would solve cases together and lock up the bad guys.  At the memory, a pink hue tinged his cheeks.  He had been such a naïve, romantic fool back then and it had been a harsh reality check when he found himself on the outer with his colleagues.  His exclusion from after work functions had left him feeling bitter and resentful and he had found himself putting up invisible barriers.  It was easier to give off a _devil may care_ attitude than admit that he was hurting.  It was how he had survived high school and now, it was how he survived work.

As the plane touched down, he turned his head towards the window and his stomach fluttered with desire when he caught a glimpse of Tom’s profile.  Since their argument, he had tried to deny his feelings for Hanson but he was slowly losing the battle.  He was hopelessly and utterly in love with the man sitting next to him and even though he was realistic enough to know it was an unattainable love, he could not quell his feelings.  He knew that the only way he could have Tom in his life, even as a friend, was to apologize for his outburst at the hospital.  However, saying sorry was not an act he found easy to perform.  He was stubborn and proud and he still believed that Hanson was in the wrong and therefore, the words remained unspoken.  

When the seat belt light dinged off, he stood up with the aid of his cane and opened the overhead compartment.  Both he and Tom were traveling light, just a change of clothes each for the two-day trip.  Grabbing out his bag, he purposely ignored Tom’s backpack and joined the queue of passengers who were slowly disembarking the plane.  He knew he was behaving childishly but he just could not help it; Tom somehow brought out the worst in him.

Walking into the arrivals lounge, he stopped and waited for Hanson to appear through the throng of passengers.  He let out an irritated sigh when Tom sauntered straight past him and picking up his bag, he followed him to the car rental desk.  Standing slightly back from the counter, he let Tom do the talking and when they had the keys to their rented Toyota, he followed him silently out to the car park.  The bitterly cold Nebraska wind took his breath away and he quickly zipped up his leather jacket.   Winter in Omaha was brutal and he longed to be back in California.

By the time they reached the car, his frame of mind had darkened considerably and stepping forward, he swiftly snatched the keys from Tom’s gloved hand.  “I’m driving,” he growled.

Even though he was in no mood to stand outside in the freezing air arguing, Tom attempted to grab the keys back but failed.  “Yeah right.  What about your leg?” he snapped irritably as he looked pointedly at the cane in Dennis’ hand.  “I don’t fancy slamming into a tree because you’re not fit to drive.”

“Too fucking bad,” Booker replied rudely as he held the keys out of Tom’s reach.  “You either come with me or stay here.  Your choice.”

Hanson seriously considered punching Booker in the face but he managed to resist the urge.  If he and Dennis did not find a way to mend their differences, he could very well face the prospect of losing his job in the Jump Street program.  As a police officer, he had never been happier than when he was working undercover and the thought of being sent back to regular duties terrified him.  Therefore, with that thought in mind, he turned away and walking around to the passenger door, he opened it and climbed silently inside the vehicle.

Dennis should have felt triumphant at once again getting the better of Hanson but in fact, he felt miserable.  They had only been in each other’s company for a little over four hours and they had spoken less than half a dozen times.  They still had a five-hour car journey to contend with and the thought of being that close to Tom and yet having no contact; either verbal or physical, was enough to make him feel utterly depressed.

When an icy gust of wind blew through the car park, he quickly opened the car door and climbed inside.  Tom was staring despondently out of the window, his body turned purposely away from the driver’s seat.  Switching the key in the ignition, Booker adjusted the heating and with a sigh, he drove out of the airport.

**

_Three hours later_

The journey had been pretty much what Booker had expected… uncomfortable.  Tom continued to stare out of the window as a heavy snow began to fall and his frosty demeanor made Booker angrier as every mile passed.  Snow impeded his vision and as he concentrated on keeping the car on the narrow country road, he felt the beginnings of a headache stabbing behind his right eye.  Pain and fatigue finally got the better of him and turning his head, he stared at Tom’s back.  “What the fuck’s your problem?”

Tom turned his head and scowled at Dennis.  “ _My_ problem?” he snorted.  “You’re the one with the problem, not me.”

Taking a hand off the wheel, Booker rubbed his fingers over his aching temple.  “I didn’t start this Hanson,” he growled.  “You did.  You fucking lied to me at the hospital—”

Turning abruptly around in his seat, Tom glared angrily at Booker.  “I’m not the only one who’s lied!” he shouted.  “What about you?  You’ve been keeping secrets from all of us since day one!”

Booker’s knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel.  “When did I ever lie to you?” he snapped.  “Name one time!”

“Are you serious?” Tom shot back with a hollow laugh.  “What about keeping your sexuality a secret?  You parade around the place, acting like a ladies’ man and in reality, half the time you’re lusting after men!”

At Tom’s words, Booker’s cheeks flamed red and he forgot about the treacherous driving conditions outside.  “How the _FUCK_ is that your business?” he screamed into Tom’s face.  “Why do you care who I date?  We’re not friends Hanson, I don’t have to tell you squat about my life!”

It only took a moments lack of concentration for the car to lose traction on a bend of the icy road.  “DENNIS LOOK OUT!” Tom yelled as the car sped towards the embankment.  

Booker had little time to react and within seconds, the vehicle ploughed into several trees and slid down the slope.  When it started to roll, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal drowned out Tom and Dennis’ yells but moments later, the car came to rest and the yelling ceased as both men were knocked into unconsciousness.  

**

A loud noise broke through the blackness of Booker’s mind and drew him back towards awareness.  He let out a loud groan and opening his eyes, he struggled to comprehend where he was.  The deafening sound continued to resonate and looking around him, he quickly realized that he was slumped against the steering wheel and the noise was the car’s horn.  

Pushing himself carefully back into a sitting position, he let out a sigh when the sound stopped.  An icy wind blew through the shattered windscreen and looking outside, he could see that the car was once again on four wheels.  His attention turned to the sensation of warm blood trickling down his face and he winced when his fingers came into contact with a gash above his eye.  As he attempted to clear the confusion from his mind, he heard a soft moaning and turning his head, he saw Hanson slouched in his seat, his right arm hanging at a peculiar angle.

“Tommy,” he muttered softly and unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned across the car.  “Tommy wake up.”

Hanson’s eyelids fluttered open and immediately, his distressed moaning became louder.  Clutching at his injured arm, tears of pain leaked from his eyes and he began to scream, “OH GOD!  OH FUCK!  HELP ME!  OH GOD DENNIS HELP ME!”

It took Booker only a moment to see that Tom had dislocated his shoulder.  Reaching out, he laid a gentle hand against his bloody cheek.  “It’s okay Tommy, it’s okay.  Just stay still, I’m going to come over to your side.”

Gritting his teeth, Tom banged his head against the back of the seat.  “It hurts Dennis!  Oh God it _hurts!”_

“Shh,” Dennis soothed softly and avoiding Tom’s injured shoulder, he gently placed a hand on the left side of his chest to prevent him from moving.  “Take deep breaths.”

Screwing his eyes closed, Tom bit down hard on his lower lip.  His shallow breathing echoed throughout the car and Booker felt a moment of panic.  They were on a narrow country road in the middle of a snowstorm and it had been at least an hour since they had seen another car.  Looking at Tom’s pale face, he knew they could not stay in the vehicle.  With the freezing temperatures and icy wind, they would be dead by morning.  It was then that he remembered passing a small cabin partially hidden in the trees just moments before they had started arguing.  It was probably a hunter's cabin but at least they would have shelter for the night and then he could hike for help in the morning.

Turning in his seat, he reached into the back of the car and felt around until his fingers grasped hold of his walking cane.   He carefully pulled it through the gap between the seats and zipping up his jacket, he opened the door and struggled out of the car.  Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he began to shiver as the icy wind penetrated through his leather jacket.  Using his cane for support, his feet crunched through the snow as he hobbled carefully around the damaged vehicle and pulling open the passenger door, he managed to squat down.  “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly.  “You have to get out of the car.”

Tom’s eyes remained closed as his head moved from side to side.  “N-No,” he stammered.  “It h-hurts t-too much.”

Booker reached out a hand and gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes.  “I know it does,” he replied sympathetically, “but we need to get out of the cold.  There’s a cabin about six-hundred yards up the road.  We’ll be there in no time.”

Opening his eyes, Tom gazed at Booker in anguish.  “And then what?” he whispered.

Smiling encouragingly, Booker carefully leaned over and unbuckled Tom’s seat belt.  “Then we fix that shoulder,” he reassured.

Tom hesitated for a moment before nodding his head.  “Okay,” he agreed quietly, "but I’m going to need some help.”

Booker stood up.  “Wait a minute,” he instructed, "let me get our bags out of the trunk.”  When Tom did not answer, he carefully made his way back to the driver’s side and pulled the car key out of the ignition.  As he turned and walked away, a thought struck him and doubling back, he opened up the glove compartment and pulled out the small first aid kit.  Spying a notepad and pen, he quickly scrawled a note and stuck it into the window trim.  Closing the door, he made his way around to the back of the car and unlocking the trunk, he unzipped his bag and shoved the small square box inside.  Hoisting the two bags onto his shoulder, he gently closed the lid and limped back to Hanson.  When he gazed down into Tom’s pale face, he could see that he was in excruciating pain but he could do nothing about it.  They needed to get to the cabin before he could attempt to help him.

Dropping the bags onto the ground, he propped his cane against the car and leaning forward, he gave Hanson an empathetic smile.  “I’m really sorry, but his is going to hurt.”

“Just do it,” Tom replied through gritted teeth.

Taking a deep breath, Booker carefully swiveled Tom’s legs out of the door.  He heard Tom draw in a sharp intake of breath and his brow furrowed in concern.  “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

“K-Keep going… keep g-going,” Tom panted as tears of pain began to stream down his face.  

In an attempt not to injure Tom further, Booker leaned inside the car and placed one hand under his left armpit and the other on his right hip.  “On the count of three,” he directed.  “One…two… THREE!”

Tom’s scream echoed through the snow-covered countryside as hot pain radiated through his shoulder causing his legs to buckle and moments later, he faded into blackness.  When his eyelids fluttered open, he felt protective arms holding him upright and he let out a moan of pain.  Perspiration beaded on his top lip and turning his head, he smiled weakly at Booker.  “Thanks for not dropping me,” he muttered.

A small smile played across Booker’s lips.  “I thought about it,” he joked, "but I figured you’ve been through enough.”

Tears filled Tom’s eyes.  “I would have deserved it.  I’ve behaved like such an asshole.”

Booker’s grinned broadened.  “Yeah you have,” he teased.  “But let’s forget about that now.  Do you think you can walk?”

Clutching his injured arm, Tom nodded his head silently.  Relieved that they were finally on their way, Booker closed the car door and picking up their bags in one hand, he grabbed hold of his cane and led Tom towards shelter.  



	7. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **My apologies once again for taking so long to post this chapter.**
> 
> **In peace,**   
>  **OpenPage x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Screwing his eyes closed, Tom bit down hard on his lower lip. His shallow breathing echoed throughout the car and Booker felt a moment of panic. They were on a narrow country road in the middle of a snowstorm and it had been at least an hour since they had seen another car. Looking at Tom’s pale face, he knew they could not stay in the vehicle. With the freezing temperatures and icy wind, they would be dead by morning. It was then that he remembered passing a small cabin partially hidden in the trees just moments before they had started arguing. It was probably a hunter’s cabin but at least they would have shelter for the night and then he could hike for help in the morning._
> 
> _Turning in his seat, he reached into the back of the car and felt around until his fingers grasped hold of his walking cane. He carefully pulled it through the gap between the seats and zipping up his jacket, he opened the door and struggled out of the car. Hunching his shoulders against the cold, he began to shiver as the icy wind penetrated through his leather jacket. Using his cane for support, his feet crunched through the snow as he hobbled carefully around the damaged vehicle and pulling open the passenger door, he managed to squat down. “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly. “You have to get out of the car.”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes remained closed as his head moved from side to side. “N-No,” he stammered. “It h-hurts t-too much.”_
> 
> _Booker reached out a hand and gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes. “I know it does,” he replied sympathetically. “But we need to get out of the cold. There’s a cabin about six-hundred yards up the road. We’ll be there in no time.”_
> 
> _Opening his eyes, Tom gazed at Booker in anguish. “And then what?” he whispered._
> 
> _Smiling encouragingly, Booker carefully leaned over and unbuckled Tom’s seat belt. “Then we fix that shoulder,” he reassured._
> 
> _Tom hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. “Okay,” he agreed quietly. “But I’m going to need some help.”_
> 
> _Booker stood up. “Wait a minute,” he instructed. “Let me get our bags out of the trunk.” When Tom did not answer, he carefully made his way back to the driver’s side and pulled the car key out of the ignition. As he turned and walked away, a thought struck him and doubling back, he opened up the glove compartment and pulled out the small first aid kit. Spying a notepad and pen, he quickly scrawled a note and stuck it into the window trim. Closing the door, he made his way around to the back of the car and unlocking the trunk, he unzipped his bag and shoved the small square box inside. Hoisting the two bags onto his shoulder, he gently closed the lid and limped back to Hanson. When he gazed down into Tom’s pale face, he could see that he was in excruciating pain but he could do nothing about it. They needed to get to the cabin before he could attempt to help him._
> 
> _Dropping the bags onto the ground, he propped his cane against the car and leaning forward, he gave Hanson an empathetic smile. “I’m really sorry, but his is going to hurt.”_
> 
> _“Just do it,” Tom replied through gritted teeth._
> 
> _Taking a deep breath, Booker carefully swiveled Tom’s legs out of the door. He heard Tom draw in a sharp intake of breath and his brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly._
> 
> _“K-Keep going… keep g-going,” Tom panted as tears of pain began to stream down his face._
> 
> _In an attempt not to injure Tom further, Booker leaned inside the car and placed one hand under his left armpit and the other on his right hip. “On the count of three,” he directed. “One…two… THREE!”_
> 
> _Tom’s scream echoed through the snow-covered countryside as hot pain radiated through his shoulder causing his legs to buckle and moments later, he faded into blackness. When his eyelids fluttered open, he felt protective arms holding him upright and he let out a moan of pain. Perspiration beaded on his top lip and turning his head, he smiled weakly at Booker. “Thanks for not dropping me,” he muttered._
> 
> _A small smile played across Booker’s lips. “I thought about it,” he joked. “But I figured you’ve been through enough.”_
> 
> _Tears filled Tom’s eyes. “I would have deserved it. I’ve behaved like such an asshole.”_
> 
> _Booker’s grinned broadened. “Yeah you have,” he teased. “But let’s forget about that now. Do you think you can walk?”_
> 
> _Clutching his injured arm, Tom nodded his head silently. Relieved that they were finally on their way, Booker closed the car door and picking up their bags in one hand, he grabbed hold of his cane and led Tom towards shelter._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888580/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Sanctuary**  

It was a slow, agonizing walk for Tom but eventually he and Dennis arrived at the hunter’s cabin.  Snow covered his clothing and white flakes highlighted his brown hair and clung to his long eyelashes.  Holding the forearm of his injured arm, he shivered with cold as he watched Dennis try the door and when it did not open, he swore loudly in frustration.  The door was bolted shut and a heavy-duty padlock kept it secure from intruders.  He knew that neither he nor Dennis was capable of kicking the door in and even if they were in perfect physical shape, he doubted that the lock would have broken under such meager force.

Hearing the distress in Tom’s voice, Booker immediately checked the two small windows but the owner had latched them from the inside.  He briefly considered breaking the glass but he knew Tom would be incapable of climbing through and he would still be unable to open the door.  Also, a broken window would let in the bitterly cold wind and he had no idea how long they would remain trapped by the weather.

Hunching over in pain, Tom spied a glint of something metallic lying in the snow.  Stepping closer, he saw an ax partially buried in the blanket of whiteness that covered the barren ground around the cabin.  “Dennis!” he called out and the effort of raising his voice made him gasp as a red-hot jolt of pain ran through his damaged shoulder.  “Over here!”

Booker leaned heavily on his cane as he limped over to Tom.  “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly when he saw Tom’s pale face etched with pain.  

Not wanting to admit that his pain was becoming unbearable, Hanson nodded and indicating with his eyes, he tried to keep the wretchedness out of his voice.  “D-Down there,” he revealed through gritted teeth.

Dennis immediately saw the ax and he grinned broadly.  When he spoke, his breath came out in a white mist.  “Perfect.”  

Reaching down, he pulled the ax from its frosty habitat and holding it in his hand, he tested the weight.  Satisfied that it would do the job, he walked over to the door and rested his cane against the outer wall of the cabin.  Bringing the ax up over his shoulder, he turned his head and looked at Tom.  “Fingers crossed,” he muttered and returning his gaze to the door, he began to count, “One… two… _THREE!”_

The ax connected with the padlock with a loud _CHINK_.  Bringing the ax back over his shoulder, he swung down for a second time and then a third.  On the fourth strike, the padlock broke on impact and shaking the snow from his hair, he grinned triumphantly at Tom.  However, his smile froze when he saw tears of pain streaming down Tom’s face.  Pushing open the door, he tossed the ax inside and taking hold of his cane, he walked over to where Tom was standing.  “Let’s get you indoors,” he said quietly and placing his hand on Hanson’s uninjured arm, he carefully led him into the cabin.

Once inside, he closed the door and slid the inner bolt across.  The cabin was icy cold but it sheltered them from the wind and snow.  As he carefully led Hanson over to the double bed, he could feel him trembling with pain.  He sat him carefully down on the edge of the bed and glanced around the cabin.  It consisted of one sparsely furnished room.  Besides the bed, the only other furniture was a small wooden table and two rickety wooden chairs.  Several gas bottles sat on a large counter that ran the width of the building, along with a gas burner, crockery, pots, pans, bottles and several cans of unidentified food.  A fireplace took up a third of the back wall, its hearth bereft of kindling but a stack of newspapers sat on the floor, waiting to be used as fire starters.  The only other item in the room was a metal pail that stood in the corner.  Noticing that there was no bathroom, Booker guessed that its primary purpose was as a toilet.

When he heard a loud moan, he quickly turned his attention back to Tom.  Sitting carefully on the bed, he laid a comforting hand on his knee.  “Once we reduce your shoulder, you’ll feel more comfortable,” he promised quietly.

Tom’s eyes widened in fear.  “Reduce it?” he asked in a worried voice.  “What the hell does that mean?”

Dennis smiled reassuringly.  “It means to relocate the joint.  Once it’s back in place, it should feel a whole lot better.”

Chewing nervously on his lower lip, Tom tried not to sound like a wimp.  “Have you done this before?” he asked anxiously.

Tilting his head on one side, Dennis could not help but smile.  “What’s the matter Hanson?” he asked in a teasing tone.  “Don’t you trust me?”

A small grin played across Tom’s lips.  “Not really,” he retorted.

Booker laughed softly.  “Well Tommy, I’m afraid you’re out of luck ‘cause I’m all you’ve got.”

Pain and emotion overwhelmed Tom and tears once again spilled from his eyes.  “I’m so sorry for what I said in the car,” he sobbed.  “I didn’t mean it, I was just angry.”

Touched by Tom’s apology, Dennis gently squeezed his knee.  “Shh,” he soothed softly.  “It’s all forgotten.  Let’s just concentrate on fixing your shoulder, okay?  Then you’ll feel like a million bucks.”

Sniffing loudly, Tom wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket and nodded.  “Okay, what do we do?”

Dennis rubbed his fingers nervously over his mouth.  “Um, firstly we need to get you out of your jacket.”

“Fuck,” Tom groaned miserably.  He knew it was going to be an extremely painful experience and he wished he had something to numb the pain.  Casting his eye around the cabin, he quickly spotted a half bottle of whiskey.  “Jacks,” he murmured.

“Huh?” Dennis asked in confusion.  “I don’t understand what you—”

“Daniels,” Tom muttered.  “Jack Daniels… on the bench.  It’ll help with the pain.”

Booker ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “Geez Hanson, I don’t know.  You’ve a large gash where you hit your head.  I don’t think alcohol’s the best idea.”

A deep scowl furrowed Tom’s smooth brow.  “Since when did you become Mister Sensible?” he asked crossly.  “I’m in fucking agony and it’s only going to get worse.  I need something to help dull the pain before you start pulling me about.”

At Tom’s harsh tone, Dennis felt his temper rising but he quickly calmed himself down.  He knew Tom was scared and in a lot of pain and he could not really blame him for snapping.  They were in the middle of nowhere during a snowstorm and neither of them was in top physical shape.  He had no idea how much food was in the cabin, but by his cursory glance, there did not appear to be much.  Even though he was wary of giving Tom alcohol in case he had a head injury, he did need him to be relaxed to be able to perform the reduction and a few stiff belts of Jacks would certainly help.  

Getting slowly to his feet, Dennis hobbled over to the counter and picked up the bottle of whiskey.  Sitting back down next to Hanson, he unscrewed the cap and handed him the bottle.  “Just take it slow,” he instructed.  

Tom lifted up the bottle and swallowed several large gulps of the amber liquid.  His throat burned and a feeling of warmth spread inside his chest, instantly making him feel calmer.  Tilting the bottle, he guzzled down another large measure before Booker gently pulled the bottle away and placed it on the floor.

“Ready?” Dennis asked quietly.

Tom was anything but ready but he closed his eyes and nodded his head.  

Taking hold of the collar on the left side of Tom’s jacket, Booker gently helped him to remove his uninjured arm.  Once his arm was free, Booker stood up and gazed down at him sympathetically.  “I have to straighten your arm,” he advised softly.  “I’m really sorry Tommy but it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

Hanson gritted his teeth.  “Just do it.”

Booker bent forward and gently took hold of Tom’s wrist.  As difficult as it was, he ignored Tom’s gasp of pain and being as gentle as possible, he carefully straightened his arm.  Hanson screamed and immediately tried to pull free but Dennis held firm.  As Tom shouted expletives at him, he pulled the jacket free and threw it onto the bed.  Looking down at Hanson’s tear stained face, he felt a moment of guilt at having caused his partner so much pain.  However, he knew it had been a necessary evil.  The longer Tom’s shoulder remained dislocated, the more difficult it would be to reduce.

Sitting back down on the bed, he reached out to brush Tom’s hair from his eyes but when he saw the warning look, he quickly pulled back.  “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he muttered sadly, "but I didn’t have a choice.”

A long silence stretched out before Tom finally spoke.  “I know you didn’t,” he mumbled.  “Can we just get this over with?”

Booker reached down and picked up the bottle of whiskey.  “Here,” he said as he handed it to Hanson, “I don’t think my nerves can stand any more of your screaming.  Take as much as you want, it’ll make it easier on both of us.”

Tom’s cheeks flamed red with embarrassment.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  “I know I’m being a baby but—”

“No!” Booker exclaimed in surprise and reaching out his hand, he gently cupped Tom’s face.  “Tommy, that’s not what I meant.  It hurts me to hear you in that much pain, that’s why it’s so difficult.  I don’t think you’re being a baby, I think you’re being really brave.”

A second flush stained Tom’s cheeks and he ducked his head shyly.  He knew that Dennis had feelings for him but the dark haired officer had no idea that he knew.  He felt moved by the tenderness of his touch and the concern in his voice and he suddenly came to the true understanding of what it would feel like to be loved by Dennis Booker.   He was obviously a man of deep compassion and sensitivity, two traits that he kept hidden from most of the world and Tom could not understand why.  He briefly wondered if it was because he feared ridicule because of his sexuality.  However, the thought was forgotten when he felt Dennis’ eyes boring into him and he quickly returned his mind to their present situation.  Lifting his head, he gave a wan smile.  “No I’m not,” he mumbled, "but thanks for saying so.”

A half smile played over Dennis’ lips.  “Drink some more whiskey,” he commanded softly, "and then we can get started.”

Tom took two large gulps before handing the bottle back.  “What now?” he asked in a slightly shaky voice.

Dennis stood up.  “You need to lie on your back with your injured arm hanging over the bed.”

With Dennis’ help, Tom maneuvered into position.  He was surprised when Dennis sat down just above his head but the reason became clear when gentle fingers began to stroke his hair.

“I need you to close your eyes and relax,” Booker instructed in a low, soothing voice.  “The more relaxed you are, the easier it will be.”

Closing his eyes, Tom allowed the alcohol and Booker’s reassuring touch to lull him into calmness.  His breathing slowed and he felt his body settle against the lumpy mattress.  After several minutes, he felt a cold hand gently grasp hold of his wrist.  Clenching his jaw, he let out a moan as Dennis slowly pulled his injured arm out to the side before maneuvering it over his head.  When his arm was level with his shoulder, he held his breath as Dennis gradually rotated his hand until it was behind his head.  Once in place, he felt a slight tugging as Dennis carefully pulled his hand towards his opposite shoulder.  Within seconds, he felt his pain subside and he knew his shoulder was back in place.  Tears of relief streamed down his face and he choked back a sob when he felt gentle fingers wiping them away.  Opening his eyes, he gazed up into Booker’s face.  “Thank you,” he whispered.

Dennis remained silent but his smile radiated the happiness he felt at seeing his beloved Tommy finally free from pain.

**

Once he was sure that Tom was comfortable, Dennis opened up his bag and pulled out the first-aid kit.  He carefully examined the contents before setting aside a bottle of saline, swabs, adhesive dressings, an elastic bandage and a pair of scissors.  After unwrapping the bandage from its plastic cover, he turned to Tom and gave him a smile.  “I think we should immobilize your arm.”

Now that he was in less pain, Hanson returned the smile.  “Whatever you think doc,” he joked.

Pulling out the bandage, Booker cut off a sufficient length and fashioned a cuff sling.  Being careful not to hurt Tom, he placed the strap over his colleague’s uninjured shoulder and pulled the back end out from under the armpit of his opposite arm.  He then gently slid Tom’s injured arm through the two loops he had tied at each end of the bandage, positioning one on his upper forearm and the other on his wrist.  “Does it feel okay?” he asked worriedly as Tom allowed his arm to relax against the restraint.

Tom nodded.  “It’s fine,” he replied through chattering teeth, "but I’m so fucking cold.”

Picking up Hanson’s jacket, Booker helped him put his uninjured arm through the sleeve and draped the other side over his shoulder.  “Better?”

Even though the coat made little difference to how cold he was feeling, Tom kept quiet and nodded his head.  He watched in silence as Booker picked up the saline bottle and soaked a swab with the solution.  When the dark-haired officer began to dab at the wound on his forehead, he was surprised at the gentleness of his touch and he felt himself beginning to relax back against the lumpy pillows.  Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh as Booker carefully cleaned his wound before placing an adhesive bandage over the cut.

Opening his eyes, he gazed at Booker’s bloodied face.  “Your turn,” he instructed softly.

Dennis saturated a clean swab with the saline and silently handed it to Tom.  His eyes remained fixed on Tom and the sight of the young man’s brow softly knitted in concentration as he daubed at the cut on his lip was so mesmerizing that he drew in a sharp intake of breath.  Having Hanson’s hands touching him was what he had dreamed of and now that he was finally experiencing it, he felt completely overwhelmed with emotion.

Thinking that he had been too heavy handed, Tom gave an apologetic smile.  “Sorry.  I suck at playing doctor.”

Booker bit down on his lower lip and averted his eyes.  “That’s okay,” he mumbled in pretense because the last thing he wanted to do was reveal that his reaction was due to the intimacy of Tom’s touch and not because he was in pain.   He was certain that the information would not be well received by Tom if he revealed his true feelings and therefore, he needed to keep his emotions in check.  They were getting along so well and he did not want to ruin it.

Once satisfied that Dennis’ wounds were clean, Tom tossed the bloodied swab onto the floor and wrapped his uninjured arm around his body in an effort to stay warm.  “Any chance we would start a fire,” he asked Booker.

Dennis stood up and limped over to the fireplace.  After a brief inspection, he turned back to Tom.  “I’m pretty sure the chimney’s not blocked.  I guess all I can do is try and hope for the best.”

Hanson settled back against the pillows and watched as Booker methodically crumpled up half a dozen sheets of newspaper and placed them in the fireplace.  He then used the ax to chop up one of the rickety wooden chairs into pieces and kneeling down, he laid the kindling over the newspaper before crisscrossing larger pieces of wood over the top.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarette lighter and lit the newspaper.  As the fire took hold, he slowly rose to his feet and hobbling over to the remaining chair, he sat down heavily.  His body was starting to ache from the impact it had taken in the crash and he felt fatigued and emotional.  Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.  It was not a very comfortable position but he needed time to relax his tired body.  

Just as he felt himself drifting off, he heard Tom’s quiet voice.  “Dennis?”

Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze towards the bed.  “What is it Hanson?” he asked wearily.

Tom’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile.  “You don’t have to sleep on the chair.  The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Booker tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.  “Are you sure?” he asked.

“It’ll be warmer,” Tom replied practically and soft pink tinged his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and added, “You know, if we huddle together.”

Dennis’ stomach flip-flopped at the thought of holding Tom in his arms but he managed to keep his expression neutral.  “Good idea,” he responded quietly.

With his heart hammering in his chest, he hauled himself to his feet and shuffled over to the bed.  Lying down, he carefully wrapped his arms around Tom and held him close.  He could feel Tom’s body trembling against him and closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet scent of his hair.  The experience was intoxicating and even though he was tired and sore, he was in heaven.

Once again he started to drift off before Tom’s soft voice pulled him back.  “If someone finds the car, they won’t know where we are.”

Without opening his eyes, Booker snuggled in closer to Tom’s body.  “I left a note,” he murmured.  “Don’t worry, they’ll find us.”

Reassured by Dennis’ answer, Tom gazed at the flickering firelight until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a deep sleep.  



	8. On the Crest of a Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Hanson settled back against the pillows and watched as Booker methodically crumpled up half a dozen sheets of newspaper and placed them in the fireplace. He then used the ax to chop up one of the rickety wooden chairs into pieces and kneeling down, he laid the kindling over the newspaper before crisscrossing larger pieces of wood over the top. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarette lighter and lit the newspaper. As the fire took hold, he slowly rose to his feet and hobbling over to the remaining chair, he sat down heavily. His body was starting to ache from the impact it had taken in the crash and he felt fatigued and emotional. Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. It was not a very comfortable position but he needed time to relax his tired body._
> 
> _Just as he felt himself drifting off, he heard Tom’s quiet voice. “Dennis?”_
> 
> _Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze towards the bed. “What is it Hanson?” he asked wearily._
> 
> _Tom’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile. “You don’t have to sleep on the chair. The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”_
> 
> _Booker tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Are you sure?” he asked._
> 
> _“It’ll be warmer,” Tom replied practically and soft pink tinged his cheeks as he lowered his eyes and added, “You know, if we huddle together.”_
> 
> _Dennis’ stomach flip-flopped at the thought of holding Tom in his arms but he managed to keep his expression neutral. “Good idea,” he responded quietly._
> 
> _With his heart hammering in his chest, he hauled himself to his feet and shuffled over to the bed. Lying down, he carefully wrapped his arms around Tom and held him close. He could feel Tom’s body trembling against him and closing his eyes, he breathed in the sweet scent of his hair. The experience was intoxicating and even though he was tired and sore, he was in heaven._
> 
> _Once again he started to drift off before Tom’s soft voice pulled him back. “If someone finds the car, they won’t know where we are.”_
> 
> _Without opening his eyes, Booker snuggled in closer to Tom’s body. “I left a note,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, they’ll find us.”_
> 
> _Reassured by Dennis’ answer, Tom gazed at the flickering firelight until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a deep sleep._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888450/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**On the Crest of a Wave**  

Dennis awoke to the sound of Tom’s gentle snoring and he instinctively put an arm around his waist and drew him in close.  Soft glowing embers were all that remained of the fire in the hearth and the temperature in the cabin had dropped considerably.  Shivering with cold, he considered getting up and relighting the fire but the feeling of Tom lying in his arms was too exhilarating and he decided to enjoy the sensation for a few moments longer.  However, as he was about to close his eyes and let his imagination wander, he saw a flash of light at the window.  At first, he thought he had imagined it but the light soon became stronger and he could hear distant voices calling out in the early morning air.  

Sitting up, he gently nudged Tom.  “Hanson, wake up.  There’s someone outside.”

Tom’s eyes opened and he struggled to a sitting position.  It took him a moment to orientate himself before he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.  “Do you think we should arm ourselves?” 

Booker nodded and leaning over the side of the bed, he reached into Tom’s bag and pulled out his gun.  After flicking off the safety, he handed it to the injured officer.  “Be careful,” he murmured softly as he armed himself with his own 9mm Glock.

Both men got to their feet and keeping low, they moved across the cabin to the far corner where they could keep both windows and the door in their line of vision.  Booker could hear Tom’s heavy breathing and he knew he was feeling the same adrenalin rush that was coursing through his own veins.  As the voices grew louder, they heard a dog bark and bright torchlight shone through the window just as a loud knocking sounded at the door.  “Hello!” a man’s voice called out.  “This is Deputy Barnes from the sheriff’s office.  Is there anyone in there?”

Tom let out an audible sigh of relief and he lowered his gun as Booker hobbled over to the door and unlatched the bolt.  Four uniformed men entered the cabin, including one holding the leash of an overexcited German Shepherd.  A kindly faced Deputy stepped forward and smiled at the two young officers.  “You’re lucky a passerby spotted your vehicle, it’s a long walk into town and this snow storm is set to last for another twenty-four hours.”

Dennis shook the Deputy’s meaty hand.  “We appreciate you coming to find us Deputy Barnes.  I’m Officer Dennis Booker and this is Officer Tom Hanson.  We were on our way to Elsmere to escort a teen runaway back to California.  I guess I’m not used to driving on icy roads.”

Barnes’ gaze turned towards Tom and noticing his arm in the crude sling, he turned to a young, wide-eyed deputy.  “Radio through to the hospital and tell ‘em we’re bringing in two men to be checked over.”

The young officer nodded and hurried out of the cabin.  Barnes motioned for Tom and Dennis to sit on the bed and lowering his hulking frame onto the one remaining chair, he took out a notebook and wrote down the details of the accident and the name of the officer they were supposed to meet in Elsmere so that he could notify him of the delay.  Once satisfied that he had all the information he required, he stood up and gave Tom and Dennis a warm smile.  “Deputy Chase will drive you to the hospital and I’ll notify…” he paused for a moment and flipped through his notebook, “…Captain Fuller and I’ll let you know what he advises.  Does that sound okay fellas?”

Tom and Dennis nodded.  They both suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted and they longed for a decent night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.

**

When Tom walked into the hospital waiting room, Booker smiled at the blue sling that now supported his arm.  “I’m kind of getting used to seeing you like that.”

Hanson grinned back.  “And I’m starting to think you’re bad luck.  Every time I go on a case with you I end up with my arm in a sling.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dennis laughed.  “Maybe _you’re_ the one that’s back luck for _me_.”

Sitting down next to Booker, Tom’s expression turned serious.  “Have you spoken to Fuller?  Is he pissed?”

Dennis sighed heavily.  “He’s not happy.  I think he’s pretty much figured out that we were arguing when the accident happened.  He doesn’t want us to continue on to Elsmere, instead he wants us back at the Chapel A.S.A.P.”

“Great,” Hanson muttered under his breath.  “I guess he’s going to hand one of us our transfer papers.”

Turning in his seat, Booker laid a hand on Tom’s knee.  “I’ve been thinking about that and I’ve decided to volunteer to leave the Jump Street program.”

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.  “You can’t do that!” he exclaimed.  “It wouldn’t be fair.”

A sad smile played over Dennis’ lips.  “Maybe,” he murmured quietly, "but you have friends at the Chapel and I don’t so it makes sense for me to leave.”

“No it doesn’t,” Tom replied in a firm voice.  “Things have changed Dennis, _neither_ of us should have to go.”

Booker lowered his eyes and let out a sigh.  “We may not have a choice.”

Tom rested his hand on top of Booker’s and gave it a squeeze.  “Then we stand together and fight.”

**

Captain Adam Fuller gazed at the two battered and bruised young men sitting in front of him.  He felt partially responsible for their injuries and he realized that sending two hotheaded men on a fool’s errand had been a mistake on his behalf.  He should have known that Booker and Hanson could never successfully work together; they were both too stubborn and too alike to be able to see each other in a positive light and be friends.  His heart felt heavy at what he was about to do but deep down, he knew he had been left with no choice.  The bottom line was that he could not have two officers working together who did not get along.  It was dangerous and it was unproductive.

Clearing his throat, he began to speak when Tom suddenly stood up and held up his hand.  “Cap’n wait.”

Fuller let out a sigh.  “Save your breath Hanson, I’ve made my decision and nothing you say will change my mind.”

“Whatever you’re about to say you’re wrong,” Tom snapped back insolently.  “You haven’t even asked us what happened in Nebraska and now you’re about to transfer one of us out of Jump Street.”

Booker reached up and tugged on Tom’s sleeve.  “It’s okay Tommy, I already told you that I’ll go.”

“NO!” Tom yelled and turning back towards Fuller, he laid his hand on his superior’s desk and leaned forward.  “This isn’t fair!  If you’d bothered to ask you’d know that Dennis and I have put our petty differences behind us!”

Fuller’s dark eyes flashed angrily and leaning forward, he stared into Tom’s face.  “Take your hand _OFF_ my desk Hanson,” he commanded in a low voice.

Realizing that he had overstepped the boundaries between officer and captain, Tom took a step backwards.  “Sorry Coach,” he muttered.  “It’s just that you never gave us a chance to explain.”

Resting back in his chair, Adam gave Tom a measured look.  “Are you telling me that you and Booker are able to work together without behaving like kindergarteners?” he asked quietly.

Tom cast a look at Dennis before returning his gaze to Fuller.  “That’s right Coach, there’ll be no more arguments.  We’re friends now.”

“Is that right?” Fuller muttered whilst continuing to stare at his young charges.  He raised his eyebrows when Booker shifted uneasily in his seat as a pink blush stained his olive skin.  Unlike the rest of the officers at Jump Street, Adam was unaware of Dennis’ feelings for Tom and he found it odd that the dark-haired officer was finding the conversation uncomfortable.  However, he found Tom’s statement to be surprisingly sincere and he sighed with relief.  He had not relished the thought of losing either man from his team and if they had managed to sort out their differences, then there was no need for him to transfer one of them to another department.

Tenting his fingers under his chin, he narrowed his eyes.  “I’ll give you both a month to prove to me that what you are saying is true,” he instructed in a calm voice.  “But the minute the two of you start behaving like children, one of your asses will be out the door so fast, you won’t touch the ground.  Understood?”

When Tom and Dennis both muttered, _“Yes Cap’n,”_ Fuller smiled his brilliant white smile.  “Excellent.  Now, I want you both to take a few days leave.  Rest up, recuperate and report back to the Chapel on Monday.”

As they walked out of Fuller’s office, Dennis grabbed hold of Tom’s arm and pulled him to one side.  Running a hand through his hair, he gave him a nervous smile.  “I was thinking of going to my uncle’s cabin on the lake for a few days.  You know, do a spot of fishing and enjoy the peace and quiet.  Do you want to come?”

Taken aback by Booker’s invitation, Tom did not immediately reply.  When Booker averted his eyes in embarrassment, he finally found his voice.  “Can I trust you not to drive us into a tree?” he asked cheekily.

Dennis raised his eyes and gave Tom a mischievous smile.  “I can’t promise anything Hanson, but I’ll try my hardest.”

Tom grinned back.  “Then it’s a yes.”

**

Sitting at the water’s edge listening to the gentle lap of the waves as the sun disappeared over the horizon, Hanson let out a contented sigh.  Booker had picked him up at first light and they had been at the cabin for the whole day.  They had spent their time fishing and talking and although at first, the conversation had been somewhat stilted, after a few beers and an early dinner of hamburgers cooked on the barbecue, they had both begun to relax.  Now, gazing at Booker’s tranquil face, he found the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind for days.  “When did you know?”

“Huh?” Dennis asked distractedly as he watched the last remnants of the sun vanish from the sky.  

“When did you know you liked men as well as women?” Tom clarified in a soft voice.

Booker’s head snapped around and he stared at Hanson.  “Why?” he asked coldly.  “What difference does it make?”

Tom blushed with embarrassment.  “I didn’t mean to offend you Dennis,” he replied quietly.  “I guess I’m just curious.”

Dennis cursed silently to himself.  Once again he had acted impulsively and put up his defenses before taking the time to understand why Tom had asked the question.  He realized now that it was obvious that Tom would be curious and he knew that his new friend meant him no harm.  Humans were naturally curious creatures and when they wanted to understand something, they asked.

Reaching down into the ice chest next to his deck chair, he pulled out two beers and handed one to Tom.  “Sorry,” he apologized.  “I didn’t mean to  bite your head off.”

Tom accepted the beer and  pulled off the top.  “That’s okay,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You weren’t,” Dennis replied hurriedly and realizing the absurdity of the comment, he let out a chuckle.  “Well, yeah you were, but it’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it.”

When Tom didn’t answer, he continued, “In a way, I think I always felt different but I was about eleven when I first thought about kissing a boy.”

Unable to keep his curiosity at bay, Tom turned and faced Booker.  “Did you try and fight it?” he asked.

A sad expression crossed over Dennis’ face.  “Of course I did,” he replied quietly.  “I was brought up going to church every Sunday, homosexuality was a sin and I was destined to go to hell for thinking such thoughts.”

A picture of Dennis as a boy flashed into Tom’s mind and his heart filled with compassion for the preteen who was so confused by urges in his body that he had been taught were sinful and wrong.  “That must have been really difficult,” he murmured.

Dennis sighed and stared at the darkening lake.  “It was,” he replied sadly as he remembered the feelings of confusion and isolation.  “But after a few years of living in denial, I realized that I couldn’t pretend any longer and so I told my mom and dad.”

“What did they say?” Tom asked quietly.

Booker’s eyes glistened at the memory.  “They were actually pretty okay with it.  I guess I was one of the lucky ones to have such supportive parents.”

A heavy silence hung in the air for several minutes before Tom asked his next question.  “So what was it like?  I mean, the first time you kissed a guy… was it different to kissing a girl?”

A small smile played over Booker’s lips and tilting his head on one side, he gazed deep into Tom’s brown eyes.  “If you’re that curious Hanson, why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Tom’s reaction was the last thing Booker expected.  “Maybe one day I will.”

Booker felt a rush of blood to his cock and he stifled a moan.  Things were suddenly getting out of control and he felt the need to slow the situation down.  Using his cane as support, he hauled himself to his feet.  “Maybe we should call it a night, I’m pretty tired.”

A shiver of relief ran through Tom’s body.  He had no idea why he had made such a comment, the words had just tumbled from his lips without any thought.   Now he felt foolish and he hoped that Dennis had not taken offence at the remark.

Standing up, he followed Booker into the cabin and closed the door.  The lodge was much more luxurious than the hunter’s cabin but it only had two rooms.  The main room consisted of a small kitchenette, a round dining table, four chairs, two sofas, several coffee tables and a double bed.  There was a door leading off from the back wall that led into a spacious bathroom.  Several rugs adorned the wooden floors and overall, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting.

Booker’s voice suddenly broke through the silence.  “There’s only one bed so we can share or one of us will have to sleep on the sofa.”

Once again, Tom reacted before he had time to think about the consequences.  “I don’t mind sharing a bed,” he responded quietly.  “We’ve done it before.”

“Okay,” Dennis replied as he walked into the bathroom.  “As long as you’re fine with it.”

The sound of Booker brushing his teeth came through the open door and Tom stood listening for a moment before taking off his sling and starting to undress.  When he was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, he sat on the end of the bed and waited for Dennis to finish.  When Booker walked into the room, he stood up and took his turn in the bathroom.  As he brushed his teeth, he studied his reflection in the mirror and he wondered why he was flirting with Dennis.  He had never behaved that way with another man before and yet now, here he was, sending out signals that he was not sure even _he_ understood.  Deep down he knew he was curious about Dennis’ bisexuality but he never thought he would actually act upon it.  His mind was in turmoil and he began to wonder if he really _could_ kiss another man.

Spitting out the toothpaste into the basin, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  He had no idea what would happen when he walked back into the bedroom but despite his confusion, he was not afraid to find out.

Switching off the light, he exited the bathroom.  Booker lay under the covers and his bare chest revealed just how toned and muscular he was.  Tom stared at him with wide eyes and for the briefest of moments, he wondered if Dennis was naked.  

The shocked expression on Tom’s face conveyed his thoughts and a broad smile split Dennis’ face.  “Don’t panic Hanson,” he laughed, “I’m respectable under here.

Blushing with embarrassment, Tom hurried over to the bed and quickly climbed under the covers.  Pulling the blanket up to his chin, he kept his eyes firmly on the ceiling.

Feeling the mattress depress, he held his breath as Booker rolled over to face him.  He jumped slightly when an arm draped across his waist.  “Hey,” Dennis murmured, "don’t worry, I was only teasing before when I suggested we kiss.”

Feeling like a virginal teenager, Tom pulled himself together and rolling over, he gazed deep into Dennis’ eyes.  “But I wasn’t,” he replied softly.  “I can’t deny it Booker, I’m curious.”

A flicker of excitement shone in Dennis’ eyes.  “You are?” he asked in a breathless voice.  “Jesus Tommy, I never would have thought… I mean... hell!  I _want_ to kiss you but I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you’re going to regret.”

“I’m sure and you’re not,” Hanson mumbled nervously before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  “What I mean is, I want to know what it’s like because I’ve been thinking about it ever since we got here.”

Although still shocked by Tom’s revelation, Dennis was not about to pass up the opportunity he had dreamed about for six months.  Taking hold of the blankets, he carefully pulled them back and laid his hand on Tom’s waist.  Smiling lovingly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Tom’s forehead.  

Hanson drew in a sharp intake of breath and his face burned red.  Unperturbed, Booker rained soft butterfly kisses over Tom’s face for several moments before lifting his head and gazing tenderly down at him.  The bright light of the full moon shone through the ill-fitting curtains and softly illuminated their faces.  “Are you okay?” he murmured.

Tom’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile.  “Yeah,” he replied quietly.  “It’s just a little strange, you know?”

Dennis’ fingers traced patterns over Tom’s hip.  “Does this bother you?” he asked.  “Because I can stop if it does.”

Looking deep into Booker’s eyes, Hanson shook his head.  “No,” he answered in a trembling voice, “I-I kinda like it.”

Growing bolder, Booker leaned forward and nuzzled against Tom’s neck.  “God I want to kiss you,” he breathed.  “Can I kiss you?”

Tom’s breathing labored in his chest as his body started to tremble.  “O-Okay,” he whispered in a shaky voice.  He could not believe that he was really letting it happen, that he was actually going to kiss another man.  Closing his eyes, he felt soft lips press against his own as Dennis kissed him tenderly.  His body instantly reacted to the sensation and parting his lips, he moaned as he felt a moist tongue enter his mouth.  He was surprised at the gentleness of the kiss and as their tongues entwined, he could taste spearmint toothpaste and the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.  Breaking the kiss, he flopped back against his pillow and ran a trembling hand over his lips.  “Jesus,” he muttered.  “Oh _Jesus_.”

Propping himself up on his elbow, Dennis gave Tom an amused look.  “I’ve never had _that_ reaction before,” he laughed softly.  “I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”

Hanson returned a shy smile.  “I didn’t think it would be like that,” he confessed quietly.  “I never thought you’d be so… _tender_.”

Reaching out his hand, Booker gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes.  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Tommy,” he replied softly.  “But if you want, we can spend some time together and get to know each other better.”

Swallowing deeply, Tom nodded his head.  “Okay,” he murmured, "but I need to know something first.”

“Sure,” Dennis replied, "what do you want to know?”

Rubbing his fingers furiously over his lips, Tom’s face flushed pink.  “Do you have a _thing_ for me?” he asked shyly.

Rolling onto his back, Dennis placed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.  “I think you already know the answer to that,” he replied quietly.

“So is that a yes?” Tom persisted in a quiet voice.

Booker let out a sigh and threw an arm over his face.  “Go to sleep Tommy.”  

Tom took the hint and turning away, he snuggled under the covers.  However, sleep eluded him as his mind played over the night’s events.  

He had kissed Dennis Booker and he had _liked_ it.   



	9. Lost on the Path to Attainment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Growing bolder, Booker leaned forward and nuzzled against Tom’s neck. “God I want to kiss you,” he breathed. “Can I kiss you?”_
> 
> _Tom’s breathing labored in his chest as his body started to tremble. “O-Okay,” he whispered in a shaky voice. He could not believe that he was really letting it happen, that he was actually going to kiss another man. Closing his eyes, he felt soft lips press against his own as Dennis kissed him tenderly. His body instantly reacted to the sensation and parting his lips, he moaned as he felt a moist tongue enter his mouth. He was surprised at the gentleness of the kiss and as their tongues entwined, he could taste spearmint toothpaste and the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train. Breaking the kiss, he flopped back against his pillow and ran a trembling hand over his lips. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Oh Jesus.”_
> 
> _Propping himself up on his elbow, Dennis gave Tom an amused look. “I’ve never had that reaction before,” he laughed softly. “I’m not quite sure what to make of it.”_
> 
> _Hanson returned a shy smile. “I didn’t think it would be like that,” he confessed quietly. “I never thought you’d be so… tender.”_
> 
> _Reaching out his hand, Booker gently brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Tommy,” he replied softly. “But if you want, we can spend some time together and get to know each other better.”_
> 
> _Swallowing deeply, Tom nodded his head. “Okay,” he murmured. “But I need to know something first.”_
> 
> _“Sure,” Dennis replied. “What do you want to know?”_
> 
> _Rubbing his fingers furiously over his lips, Tom’s face flushed pink. “Do you have a thing for me?” he asked shyly._
> 
> _Rolling onto his back, Dennis placed his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he replied quietly._
> 
> _“So is that a yes?” Tom persisted in a quiet voice._
> 
> _Booker let out a sigh and threw an arm over his face. “Go to sleep Tommy.”_
> 
> _Tom took the hint and turning away, he snuggled under the covers. However, sleep eluded him as his mind played over the night’s events._
> 
> _He had kissed Dennis Booker and he had liked it._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35169666343/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Lost on the Path to Attainment**  

Soft beams of sunlight filtered through the windows, creating abstract patterns across the cabin’s hard wood floor.  Dennis slowly opened his eyes and stretching out his body, he yawned sleepily.  His early morning erection pushed against his boxers and turning his head, he let out a barely audible moan at the sight of Tom sleeping peacefully beside him.  He took a moment to study his perfect features, the softness of his skin, the sharpness of his cheekbones and the inviting curve of his lips.  To Dennis, he was perfection, right down to the long bangs that obscured his beautiful brown eyes and he longed to brush his lips against Tom’s, the lips that even in sleep had a penchant to pout.

Sighing in frustration, he carefully pulled back the covers and climbed out of bed.  Taking hold of his cane, he limped into the bathroom and closed the door.  His erection ached to be touched and turning on the shower, he stripped off his boxers and stepped under the warm water.  Reaching down, he gently caressed his cock as visions of Tom’s full lips played in his mind.  His breath caught in his throat as he trailed a finger over the sensitive ridge of his cockhead and closing his eyes, he ran his finger along his frenulum.  Now that he was fully erect, his cock began to weep and encircling his fingers around his shaft, he began to jerk off.  A loud moan escaped his lips as he imagined it was Tom’s slim fingers wrapped around him and bracing a hand against the tiled wall, he quickened his pace.  Bending his head, the soothing stream of water cascaded over his shoulders and he began to pant as he felt his orgasm rising.  Biting down on his lower lip, he stifled a cry of pleasure as warm semen covered his fingers before washing away down the drain. 

Tilting back his head, he allowed the temperate water to wash over his face.  His mind traveled back to the previous night’s events and he wondered what it had all meant.  He could understand Tom’s curiosity but what he did not understand was his willingness to experiment.  For the six months he had known Hanson, he had never doubted his heterosexuality but now, he did not know what to think or how to proceed.  As much as he craved an intimate relationship with Tom, he did not hold out much hope.  The more he thought about it, the more he convinced himself that it was a one off experience and he should accept it, move on and be content with their friendship.

With a sigh, he picked up the bar of soap and lathered his body.  After rinsing himself off, he shampooed his hair and once clean, he turned off the faucets and stepped out of the shower cubicle.  He quickly dried himself, brushed his teeth and ran his fingers through his damp hair.  Wrapping a towel around his waist, he took hold of his cane and opening the bathroom door, he emerged through a waft of steam and into the main room of the cabin.  He stopped when he saw that Tom was dressed and standing at the window, his usual relaxed expression now a mask of misery.  His heart thudded in his chest and crossing the room, he laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Is everything okay?”

Tom jumped at the contact and quickly took a step backwards.  Dennis’ heart plummeted and sadness filled his dark eyes.  In the space of just a few hours, everything had changed.

Seeing Dennis’ hurt expression, Tom felt a pang of guilt.  But the confusion in his mind was overpowering his emotions and he knew he needed to get away.  Unable to meet the injured look in Dennis’ eyes, he lowered his head and stared at the floor.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered, “I can’t do this.”

Booker’s grip tightened on his cane.  “Do what?” he asked in a strained voice.

“This,” Tom mumbled.  “I can’t stay here.  Not now, not after…”  His voice trailed off and he shifted uncomfortably.  

Although his heart was breaking, Dennis took a deep breath and pulled himself together.  He did not want Tom to see how upset he was, there was no point.  All it would achieve was another argument that would ultimately lead to one of them transferring from the Jump Street program.  

As he stared at Tom’s bowed head, he managed a forced smile.  “Okay, just give me a few minutes to pack up and I’ll drive you—”

“No!” Tom replied quickly and lifting his head, he pleaded with his eyes for Dennis to understand.  “I need to be alone.  I’ll walk into town and call Penhall and he can pick me up.”

Despite his promise to himself not to get annoyed, Dennis’ eyes flashed with anger.  “What you really mean is that you want to get away from _me_ ,” he snapped back.  “Being with Penhall is not being alone Tom.  If you can’t stand to be around me, just fucking say so.”

“I CAN’T BE AROUND YOU!” Tom cried out and raking his fingers through his tousled hair, he began to pace around the room.  “Don’t you get it?  We kissed!  We fucking _KISSED!_   How can you not be freak—”  He stopped pacing and gave a hollow laugh.  “Of course _you’re_ not freaked out.  Why would you be?  This is nothing new to you.”

A physical pain stabbed at Booker’s heart.  It was all his fault, he had spoiled everything.  Through animosity and resentment, they had managed to build up a friendship and in the space of twenty-four hours, the foundations had crumbled and it now lay in ruins.  He should never have given in to his desires, he should have ignored Tom’s comment and everything would have been fine.  

He should have resisted.

Limping over to the end of the bed, he picked up Tom’s backpack.  As his hurt and anger intensified, he turned around and without thinking, he threw it at Hanson.

With one arm in a sling, Tom had no chance of catching the bag and it slammed into his chest.  Staggering backwards, he let out a cry as pain radiated through his shoulder.  Booker immediately felt guilty and he moved towards Tom.  “Hanson I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean—”

“Forget it,” Tom muttered and bending down, he picked up his bag and walked out of the cabin.

**

Dennis arrived back at his apartment late in the evening.  Throwing his bag down on the floor, he hobbled into the kitchen and grabbed a beer.  He was tired and depressed and he now wished he had never asked Tom to join him at the cabin.  It was because of his desire to have Tom close to him that he had ultimately destroyed their friendship.  Now, once again, they were destined to be strangers.

He flopped down onto the sofa and flicked on the television.  Taking a gulp of beer, he stared despondently at the screen and thought about Tom.  For a fraction of a second during their kiss, he had let himself believe that it was the start of something beautiful, that Tom would fall in love with him and they would live happily ever after.  But it was all an impossible dream, a fantasy that his mind refused to relinquish.  Tom was straight and that was that.

Struggling to his feet, he grabbed another beer and lay back down.  As much as he wanted to drink away his sorrows, he knew it was a bad idea.  He would have one more beer and call it a night and he hoped that when sleep finally enveloped him, he would have visions of the man who had stolen his heart.

**

A loud banging woke Dennis from a deep sleep.  Rolling over, he cursed when he saw that the time was 3.12 a.m.  Climbing out of bed, he grabbed his cane and limped into the living room.  “Okay!  Okay!  I’m coming!” he yelled out as the incessant banging continued.  Reaching the door, he slid back the chain and turning the lock, he opened the door to see Tom standing in the corridor.  “Hanson?” he muttered in amazement.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tom gave a goofy grin.  “I came to see _you_ ,” he replied and without waiting for an invitation, he stumbled into the apartment.  

Bewildered by Tom’s behavior, Booker closed the door.  Turning around he jumped in surprise when strong arms pulled him into a clumsy hug and Tom pressed his lips against his neck and murmured, “Kiss me.”

“W-What?” Dennis stammered.  “Tom what the hell is—”

Tom forced himself against Dennis and pushed him against the wall.  “I want… you… to _kiss_ me,” he breathed whilst grinding his body against the startled officer.  

Booker did not need asking twice and wrapping his arms around Tom’s slender waist, he pulled him close and kissed him passionately.  Immediately the acetic flavor of whiskey assaulted his taste buds and he pulled back.  As he gazed into Tom’s unfocused eyes, everything suddenly became clear.  “Have you been drinking?” 

“Li’l bit,” Tom replied happily.

“Jesus Tommy,” Booker muttered in despair, "how did you get here?”

Tom grinned drunkenly as he swayed on his feet.  “My Mush-tang,” he slurred.  “How elsh woul’ I ‘ave—”

A deep frown furrowed Booker’s brow and he held out his hand.  “Give me your keys.”

A soft pout formed on Tom’s lips.  “Why?” he asked moodily.

“Because you shouldn’t be fucking driving!” Booker cried out in exasperation.  “Now give me your keys!”

Staggering slightly, Tom placed a hand against the wall for support and reached into his pocket.  After several moments, he pulled out his keys and threw them at Dennis.  “Happy?” he asked sullenly.

Booker sighed heavily.  As much as he wanted to press his body against Tom and kiss him long and hard, he knew he could not take advantage of him in his present intoxicated state.  It was obvious that the young officer was on a roller coaster ride of emotion and alcohol was his way of coping with the confusion.  He was not thinking clearly and in all probability, come morning, he would have deep regrets about his behavior.  

Taking hold of Tom’s hand, Booker led him over to the sofa.  “Sit down,” he commanded quietly.  Hanson collapsed onto the couch and closing his eyes, he let out a contented sigh.  A small smile twitched at Dennis’ lips and bending forward, he gently slipped off Tom’s sling and positioned his body so that he was lying down.  Perching himself on the arm of the sofa, he unlaced Tom’s boots and taking them off, he placed them at the end of the coffee table.  

Moments later, a soft snoring resonated around the room, signaling that Tom had fallen asleep.  Booker stood up and limping over to his closet, he pulled out a blanket.  After gently laying it over Tom, he stood for several minutes and gazed down at him before turning away and returning to his bed.

**

Hanson opened his eyes and let out a groan.  He felt like shit and he was certain that if he looked in a mirror, the reflection staring back at him would look like shit too.  Struggling to a sitting position, he gazed around in confusion at the unfamiliar décor and tried to remember where he was.  Slowly, the memory of the night’s events filtered into his mind and holding his aching head in his hands, he let out another groan.

The sound of a rustling newspaper caught his attention and turning around, he saw Booker sitting at a small dining table.  A deep blush stained his cheeks and he smiled awkwardly.  “Hey.”

Dennis put down his newspaper and returned a small smile.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Tom muttered.  When Booker did not reply, he let out a heavy sigh.  “I’m _really_ sorry Dennis, my behavior last night was… embarrassing.  I don’t know what came over me.”

Standing up, Booker hobbled over and sat down on the coffee table opposite Tom.  “Did you mean it?” he asked quietly.

Tom rubbed his fingers nervously over his upper lip.  “Wanting to kiss you?” he mumbled through his fingers.  “Yeah I did.  When I got home I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened at the lake and…”  His voice trailed off and he lowered his gaze to the floor.  “ _Jesus_ … I just don’t know what it all means.”

Dennis knew that he needed to tread warily.  Tom was in a vulnerable place and if he came on too strong, he ran the risk of scaring him off but if he let the moment go, he would lose his one chance of having him in his life.  However, no matter how much he yearned to feel Tom’s soft lips pressed against him, he realized now that he wanted to be in a proper relationship, not just a casual fling.  

Leaning forward, he placed his hands on Tom’s knees.  “You know how I feel about you Tommy,” he murmured softly, “but I won’t be used as an experiment.”

Tom’s cheeks burned red.  “Maybe I should just go,” he muttered.  “I can’t think about this now.”

Booker studied Tom’s bloodshot eyes.  “I’ll drive you,” he stated firmly.  “You don’t look in any fit state to be behind the wheel.”

Although he wanted to escape Booker’s soulful gaze as quickly as possible, Tom knew that he should not be driving.  “Fine,” he sighed.  “I’ll catch a cab back later and get my car.”

“Do you want something to eat first?” Dennis asked.

The thought of food caused Tom’s stomach to churn and he shook his head.  “No.  I think eating might be a bad idea.”

An amused smile played over Dennis’ lips.  “That’ll teach you to flirt with me and then go on a bender,” he chuckled.

Feeling the way he was, Tom did not see the funny side of Dennis’ remark.  “Can we just go?” he asked moodily.

Booker stood up.  “Sure,” he replied curtly.  “Whatever you want.”

Tom knew he was behaving like an ass but when he started to apologize for his surliness, Dennis had already walked out of the apartment.  



	10. The Winds of Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Hanson opened his eyes and let out a groan. He felt like shit and he was certain that if he looked in a mirror, the reflection staring back at him would look like shit too. Struggling to a sitting position, he gazed around in confusion at the unfamiliar décor and tried to remember where he was. Slowly, the memory of the night’s events filtered into his mind and holding his aching head in his hands, he let out another groan._
> 
> _The sound of a rustling newspaper caught his attention and turning around, he saw Booker sitting at a small dining table. A deep blush stained his cheeks and he smiled awkwardly. “Hey.”_
> 
> _Dennis put down his newspaper and returned a small smile. “How are you feeling?”_
> 
> _“Like hell,” Tom muttered. When Booker did not reply, Tom let out a heavy sigh. “I’m really sorry Dennis, my behavior last night was… embarrassing. I don’t know what came over me.”_
> 
> _Standing up, Booker hobbled over and sat down on the coffee table opposite Tom. “Did you mean it?” he asked quietly._
> 
> _Tom rubbed his fingers nervously over his upper lip. “Wanting to kiss you?” he mumbled through his fingers. “Yeah I did. When I got home I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened at the lake and…” His voice trailed off and he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Jesus… I just don’t know what it all means.”_
> 
> _Dennis knew that he needed to tread warily. Tom was in a vulnerable place and if he came on too strong, he ran the risk of scaring him off but if he let the moment go, he would lose his one chance of having him in his life. However, no matter how much he yearned to feel Tom’s soft lips pressed against him, he realized now that he wanted to be in a proper relationship, not just a casual fling._
> 
> _Leaning forward, he placed his hands on Tom’s knees. “You know how I feel about you Tommy,” he murmured softly, “but I won’t be used as an experiment.”_
> 
> _Tom’s cheeks burned red. “Maybe I should just go,” he muttered. “I can’t think about this now.”_
> 
> _Booker studied Tom’s bloodshot eyes. “I’ll drive you,” he stated firmly. “You don’t look in any fit state to be behind the wheel.”_
> 
> _Although he wanted to escape Booker’s soulful gaze as quickly as possible, Tom knew that he should not be driving. “Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll catch a cab back later and get my car.”_
> 
> _“Do you want something to eat first?” Dennis asked._
> 
> _The thought of food caused Tom’s stomach to churn and he shook his head. “No. I think eating might be a bad idea.”_
> 
> _An amused smile played over Dennis’ lips. “That’ll teach you to flirt with me and then go on a bender,” he chuckled._
> 
> _Feeling the way he was, Tom did not see the funny side of Dennis’ remark. “Can we just go?” he asked moodily._
> 
> _Booker stood up. “Sure,” he replied curtly. “Whatever you want.”_
> 
> _Tom knew he was behaving like an ass but when he started to apologize for his surliness, Dennis had already walked out of the apartment._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888380/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**The Winds of Change**  

Tom stood on the sidewalk and watched Dennis drive away.  They had driven the short distance to his home in silence and now he wished he had at least finished the apology he had tried to deliver back at Dennis’ apartment.  He felt he owed Booker that much.  With a sigh, he turned and walked into his building.  He climbed the two flights of stairs up to his apartment and searching through his pockets, he found his key and opened the door.  The remnants of his drinking lay around the room and his stomach lurched at the memory.  When he had finished the six-pack of beers he had in his refrigerator, he had driven to the bar around the corner from Dennis’ apartment to continue his self-indulgent _pity-fest_.  After downing countless glasses of Jack Daniel’s he had driven the half mile to Dennis’ apartment and the rest as they said, was history.

Walking into the bathroom, he kicked off his boots and undressed.  Turning on the faucets, he stepped into the cubicle and pulled the curtain around him.  His behavior had been reprehensible but he knew it was due to the conflicting feelings that now consumed his every thought.  Booker had always been his nemesis, his rival and now, not only was he having warm and fuzzy feelings towards the man he had despised not too long ago, he was also feeling a strong sexual attraction towards him.  Never in his life had he felt the desire to kiss another man and yet twice he had thrown himself at Dennis as the overwhelming need to feel his full lips pressed against him had completely pushed all sense and reason from his mind.  

Bowing his head, he let the heat of the water wash away his humiliation.  Tears of shame filled his eyes and slowly trickled down his cheeks, their saltiness mixing with the flowing water.  He was falling in love with Dennis Booker and he did not understand why.  He was comfortable enough to admit to himself that Dennis was extremely attractive but he had met attractive men before and he had never felt the urge to have a relationship with them.  But what confused him the most was that he had not felt a sexual desire to be with Booker until he had found out that he was bisexual.  He now wondered if he had always felt an attraction towards men but had never acknowledged it or acted upon it because he had never met anyone who was gay.  The nagging question that kept floating around in his mind was, _am I bisexual or am I just curious?_   Dennis’ statement, _“You know how I feel about you Tommy but I won’t be used as an experiment,”_ haunted him.  Booker was in love with him and he needed to be one hundred percent sure of his own feelings before he acted on his emotions, otherwise he risked hurting him in a way he did not deserve.

An overwhelming sense of tiredness washed over his body and turning off the shower, he stepped out and quickly dried himself off.  Walking into his bedroom, he pulled on an old pair of sweat pants and a sweatshirt.  Collapsing onto the bed, he placed an arm behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.  He and Dennis were due back at the Chapel the following morning and he knew he needed to resolve his feelings before then, otherwise working together would once again become an issue.

**

The loud ringing of the phone woke Tom from a deep sleep.  Rolling over, he grabbed up the receiver.  “Dennis?” he mumbled sleepily.

Penhall’s jolly voice sounded down the phone.  “ _Dennis?_   Whoa Hanson, I know you and Booker are trying to find a way to work together but dreaming about him is taking things a bit far don’t you think?”

Tom’s face flushed red and sitting up, he ran a hand through his tousled hair.  “What do you want Doug?” he asked wearily.

Doug ignored Tom’s irritated tone.  “I just thought I’d check up on you,” he replied cheerfully.  “You said you weren’t feeling well when I picked you up from the lake and then last night I came over but you didn’t answer the door.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Tom screwed his eyes closed and tried to think of a plausible story.  “I um… I took a sleeping pill,” he lied.  “I guess I didn’t hear you.”

“Really?” Penhall asked in a disbelieving voice.  “So how come your Mustang was gone?”

When Tom did not answer, Doug let out a heavy sigh.  He knew Tom’s feelings about taking drugs and he found it highly unlikely that he had taken a sleeping pill.  “Is there something going on Hanson?  ‘Cause if you want to talk about—”

“There’s not,” Tom replied curtly.  “Jesus Doug, I’ve been shot and I’ve suffered a dislocated shoulder, all in the space of a couple of months.  I think I’m allowed to take some medication if I need it.”

Hearing the mounting agitation in Tom’s voice, Penhall immediately backed off.  “Sure buddy, whatever you think is right.  I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tom sighed.  “Yeah,” he replied quietly, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Hanging up the phone, he lay back down on the bed and stared moodily at the ceiling.  His world was becoming a complication of lies and denial and if he did not make a decision about Dennis soon, he knew it would only become more problematical as time went on.

**

Hanson paid the cab driver and stepped out onto the pavement.  A cool breeze chilled the night air and he shivered involuntarily.  Walking up the steps into the building, he caught the elevator up to the third floor and stopping outside of apartment 306, he took a moment to gather his thoughts.  He had made his decision and now he was about to face Booker and explain everything that had been going on in his mind over the last few days.

Rapping his knuckles against the door, he chewed nervously at his lower lip.  The sound of the television muted and his heart rate quickened when he heard footsteps approaching.  When the door opened, he managed an awkward smile.  “Hey.”

Dennis’ face broke into a wide grin and stepping back from the doorway, he let Tom enter.  “Hey yourself, you’re looking better.”

“Yeah well, a hot shower and a few hours sleep has its benefits,” Tom joked before shifting uncomfortably on his feet.  “Look Dennis, I really want to apologize for—”

Booker held up his hand.  “Don’t,” he replied quietly as he indicated for Tom to take a seat on the sofa.  “All is forgotten.”

Tom sat down and let out a sigh.  “No it’s not,” he stated softly.  “It can’t be forgotten Dennis, not now.  I need to talk about it… I need to tell you how I feel.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in surprise at Tom’s proclamation.  He had been fully prepared for Tom to walk through the door and act as though nothing had happened between them and now he was saying that he wanted to talk about their encounter.  Shaking his head slightly at the wonder of it all, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.  “O- _kay_ ,” he replied slowly.  “So… what’s on your mind Hanson?”

“You,” Tom murmured bluntly and Booker’s eyes widened a little further at the admission.  “I can’t stop thinking about you… I can’t stop thinking about our kiss.”

Booker rubbed a trembling hand over his mouth.  “Meaning?” he asked softly and his heart hammered in his chest as he clung to the single thread of hope that he and Tom might finally be together.

Hanson’s mouth twitched into a nervous smile.  “Meaning… I think I’m attracted to you.”

They were not quite the words that Dennis had longed to hear but they were a start.  Tilting his head on one side, he gave Tom a quizzical look.  “You _think_ you’re attracted to me or you _are_ attracted to me?” he asked directly.

A pink hue tinged Tom’s cheeks and he ducked his head endearingly.  “I _am_ attracted to you,” he murmured softly.

Realizing that he was not going to get any more information out of Tom unless he continued to push, Booker moved across the couch and laid a hand on his knee.  “Are you saying that you want to take this further?”

Lifting his head, Tom peered up through his long bangs.  “Yeah,” he replied quietly, “I am.”

A slow smile spread over Dennis’ face and leaning forward, he pulled Tom into a hug.  At first, the young officer’s body remained stiff but he eventually relaxed into the embrace.  Booker buried his face in Tom’s hair and inhaled the sweet scent of his shampoo.  When they eventually pulled apart, he grinned at Tom’s obvious embarrassment.   “Jesus Hanson, it was only a hug, just wait until we get to the good stuff.”

Tom’s blush deepened and he scrambled to his feet.  “Well… I guess I should go,” he mumbled.  “We’ve got our first day back at work tomorrow.”

Booker stood up and placed his hands on Tom’s hips.  “Stay,” he murmured.

At the softness of Dennis’ voice, Tom’s lips twitched into a shy smile.  “I don’t know,” he muttered uncomfortably, "maybe it would be better if we took it slow.”

Dennis understood that Tom was nervous and he gave him a reassuring smile.  “I promise you Tommy, I won’t pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do.  You can set the pace, okay?”

Tom chewed on his lower lip as he digested Booker’s words.  Finally, he met the dark haired officer’s expectant gaze.  “Okay,” he acceded quietly.  

Taking hold of Tom’s hand, Dennis led him into the bathroom and found him a new toothbrush still in its packet.  “Make yourself at home,” he instructed, “and if you need anything, just ask.”

Closing the bathroom door, Hanson leaned heavily against the hand basin.  His heart raced in his chest as it slowly dawned on him that he was entering into a homosexual relationship with Dennis Booker.  Closing his eyes, he could not help but wonder what his mother and work colleagues would think if they knew.  He was certain that they would be left speechless by the revelation and it was then that he decided that he would keep it a secret, at least for the time being.  It was difficult enough for him to get his head around it and he did not feel like having to explain his decision to curious friends and family.

Picking up the toothbrush, he tore open the wrapper and squirted a dollop of toothpaste onto the head.  He ignored his reflection in the mirror as he proceeded to brush his teeth.  When he was finished, he ran a trembling hand through his hair and walked into Booker’s bedroom.

Dennis sat on the bed dressed only in a pair of boxers.  Lowering his eyes, Tom waited until he had left the room before slipping off his sling and quickly undressing down to his t-shirt and boxers.  Slipping between the cool sheets, his heart raced uncontrollably as he waited for Dennis to join him.  When the bathroom light switched off, he held his breath and waited.  

When Dennis entered the bedroom, a small frown creased his forehead.  “Jesus Tommy,” he murmured softly, "you look terrified.”

Tom immediately felt stupid and letting out the breath he had been holding, he managed a small smile.  “Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Pulling back the covers, Dennis climbed into bed and after switching off the bedside lamp, he rolled over so that he was facing Tom.  “I told you,” he whispered as his fingers lightly played with Tom’s hair, "we’ll take it slow.  Whatever you want, okay?”

Moonlight shone through the partially opened shutters of the bedroom window, casting an eerie glow across the room.  Tom knew _exactly_ what he wanted, and taking a deep breath, he gazed into Dennis’ dark eyes.  “I want you to kiss me,” he whispered.

Dennis’ stomach somersaulted and leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Tom’s full pout.  Tom parted his lips to allow Booker access and their tongues danced together as they explored each other’s mouths.  Becoming bolder, Booker deepened the kiss as he lightly trailed his fingers over Tom’s stomach.  The intimacy of the contact sent a shiver down Tom’s spine and he let out a soft moan.  Breaking the kiss, Dennis stared down at him with heavily lidded eyes.  “Can I take off your t-shirt?” he murmured.

When Hanson nodded, Booker took hold of the bottom of the shirt and pulled it over his head.  Looking down at Tom’s smooth, toned chest, he let out a sigh of appreciation.  Tom laughed softly and pulling Dennis towards him, he kissed him tenderly.

It was Dennis’ turn to moan in pleasure and as their kiss intensified, his hands explored Tom’s upper body.  After several minutes, he pulled away and gazed down at Tom lovingly.  “I want you to lie back and enjoy this,” he whispered.

Tom nodded nervously.  He waited until Dennis was leaning over his body before closing his eyes as warm lips pressed against his skin and rained soft kisses down his torso.  He gasped when a moist tongue swirled around his navel and his cock hardened.  He could feel Dennis’ hot breath just inches from his growing erection and as his arousal grew, he let out a soft moan.

Dennis trailed kisses back up Tom’s body and when he reached his throat, he sucked greedily on the taught skin, leaving a red mark in his wake.  Lifting his head, he swirled his tongue around the ridge of Tom's ear and in a breathless voice he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Tom writhed beneath him.  “ _Yesss_ ,” he breathed.  Never before had someone given such selfless attention to his wants and needs.  His cock ached to be touched and he longed to feel Booker’s fingers wrapped around him.  

But Dennis was not one to be rushed and he took his time exploring Tom’s body with his fingers and tongue.  When he finally stopped, Tom’s cock was fully erect and tenting his boxers.  Sitting back on his haunches, he smiled mischievously before lightly running his index finger down the length of Tom's shaft.  

Tom’s hips bucked off the bed and his eyes flew open.  Dennis’ smile widened.  “Do you want more?” he teased softly.

Two huge, dark eyes stared up at him but when Tom did not speak, he started to become concerned.  “Tommy?” he prompted gently.  “Is everything okay?”

“I-I…” Tom stuttered and his eyes misted over.  “I can’t!”

Booker immediately realized that Tom was starting to panic and he quickly moved so that he was no longer straddling his legs.  Once free, Tom scrambled from the bed and stood in the middle of the floor, his dark eyes filled with confusion.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in embarrassment, “I don’t think I can do this.”

As he stared at Tom’s flustered expression, Dennis mentally kicked himself.  He had promised Hanson he would take it slow and the moment he had him in his bed, he had started to push the boundaries.  It was obvious now that it had been a huge mistake; Tom was not ready for that level of intimacy.

Climbing slowly off the bed, he tested the waters by reaching out and taking Tom’s hand.  “It’s okay,” he reassured calmly, "it’s my fault. I promised I’d take it slow and I guess I got a little carried away.”

Feeling like a fool, Tom attempted a small smile.  “No, it’s _my_ fault.  I don’t know why, but… _Shit!_   I know I want this so why is it so fucking hard?”

Dennis thought carefully about his answer before speaking and as the words tumbled from his lips, he could not believe he was actually saying them.  “Maybe it’s _not_ really what you want.  Maybe… maybe we should forget about it and just stay friends.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand away.  “Do you think I don’t know my own mind?” he asked crossly.

Sensing that Tom was about to get angry, Dennis let out a sigh.  “That’s not what I meant.  It’s just… are you really sure you know what you’re getting into?”

Tom’s anger disappeared as quickly as it had risen and his shoulders slumped wearily.  “Not really,” he muttered.  “But these feelings I have are real Dennis.”

Booker stepped forward and wrapping his arms around Tom, he hugged him tightly.  “Then we take it slow,” he stated gently, “and that way, no one gets hurt.’

A warm feeling of love washed over Tom and lifting his head, he brushed his lips against the fullness of Booker’s pout.  “Can I still stay the night?”

“Of course,” Dennis murmured against Tom’s mouth and taking hold of his hand, he led him back to the bed.  When they were once again settled under the covers, he wrapped an arm protectively around Tom’s waist and held him close.  Minutes passed and he heard Tom’s breathing slow as he fell into a deep slumber but for him, sleep was elusive.  



	11. Two Worlds Colliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom writhed beneath him. “Yesss,” he breathed. Never before had someone given such selfless attention to his wants and needs. His cock ached to be touched and he longed to feel Booker’s fingers wrapped around him._
> 
> _But Dennis was not one to be rushed and he took his time exploring Tom’s body with his fingers and tongue. When he finally stopped, Tom’s cock was fully erect and tenting his boxers. Sitting back on his haunches, he smiled mischievously before lightly running his index finger down the length of Tom's shaft._
> 
> _Tom’s hips bucked off the bed and his eyes flew open. Dennis’ smile widened. “Do you want more?” he teased softly._
> 
> _Two huge, dark eyes stared up at him but when Tom did not speak, he started to become concerned. “Tommy?” he prompted gently. “Is everything okay?”_
> 
> _“I-I…” Tom stuttered and his eyes misted over. “I can’t!”_
> 
> _Booker immediately realized that Tom was starting to panic and he quickly moved so that he was no longer straddling his legs. Once free, Tom scrambled from the bed and stood in the middle of the floor, his dark eyes filled with confusion. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled in embarrassment. “I don’t think I can do this.”_
> 
> _As he stared at Tom’s flustered expression, Dennis mentally kicked himself. He had promised Hanson he would take it slow and the moment he had him in his bed, he had started to push the boundaries. It was obvious now that it had been a huge mistake; Tom was not ready for that level of intimacy._
> 
> _Climbing slowly off the bed, he tested the waters by reaching out and taking Tom’s hand. “It’s okay,” he reassured calmly. “It’s my fault, I promised I’d take it slow and I guess I got a little carried away.”_
> 
> _Feeling like a fool, Tom attempted a small smile. “No, it’s my fault. I don’t know why, but… Shit! I know I want this so why is it so fucking hard?”_
> 
> _Dennis thought carefully about his answer before speaking and as the words tumbled from his lips, he could not believe he was actually saying them. “Maybe it’s not really what you want. Maybe… maybe we should forget about it and just stay friends.”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes narrowed and he pulled his hand away. “Do you think I don’t know my own mind?” he asked crossly._
> 
> _Sensing that Tom was about to get angry, Dennis let out a sigh. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… are you really sure you know what you’re getting into?”_
> 
> _Tom’s anger disappeared as quickly as it had risen and his shoulders slumped wearily. “Not really,” he muttered. “But these feelings I have are real Dennis.”_
> 
> _Booker stepped forward and wrapping his arms around Tom, he hugged him tightly. “Then we take it slow,” he stated gently, “and that way, no one gets hurt.’_
> 
> _A warm feeling of love washed over Tom and lifting his head, he brushed his lips against the fullness of Booker’s pout. “Can I still stay the night?”_
> 
> _“Of course,” Dennis murmured against Tom’s mouth and taking hold of his hand, he led him back to the bed. When they were once again settled under the covers, he wrapped an arm protectively around Tom’s waist and held him close. Minutes passed and he heard Tom’s breathing slow as he fell into a deep slumber but for him, sleep was elusive._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35169666223/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Two Worlds Colliding**  

The sound of a honking horn outside his bedroom window woke Booker from a light sleep.  Glancing at the clock, he let out a heavy sigh.  He had spent most of the night staring up at the ceiling whilst Tom snored softly beside him, untouchable, unattainable, so close and yet so far away.  It was frustrating but he knew it was not Hanson’s fault.  He could remember all too well the confusion he had felt the first time he had acted upon his sexual desires.  No matter how right it felt, at the beginning, there was always a nagging internal voice telling you it was wrong, that _society_ said it was wrong.  It was only after experiencing the pure joy of being with the one he loved, that he realized that society was the one who was wrong.  Gender did not factor into love, it was all about what you felt deep in your heart and as far as he was concerned, those who disagreed could go to hell.

Rolling over, he propped himself up on his elbow and gazed at Tom’s sleeping face.  He longed to touch him, to feel his body writhing beneath him as he teased his cock to life but he knew he needed to show restraint.  Tom still had that little voice in his head whispering that it was a sin and until it was silenced, he would respect his wishes and take things slow.

After several more minutes of basking in the beauty of Tom’s perfect features, he reached out and gently brushed his tousled hair from his eyes.  “Hey Tommy, time to wake up.”

Tom opened his eyes and gazed up at Booker drowsily.  “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into the pillow.

Dennis let out a soft laugh.  “I’m guessing you’re not a morning person.”

A sleepy grin played over Tom’s lips.  “Depends,” he murmured seductively.  “How were you planning to wake me up?”

Booker’s heart skipped a beat.  Tom had given him a signal, a sign that he wanted contact.  His dark eyes softened as he lightly trailed his forefinger over Tom’s lips.  “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“Kissing’s good,” Tom replied languidly.

Dennis smiled and leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Tom’s and kissed him tenderly.  He moaned in pleasure when Tom’s tongue slipped inside his mouth and entwined with his own.  Wrapping his arm around his slender body, he pulled him close as their passion increased.  A loud groan escaped his lips when he felt Tom’s erection pressing against him and breaking the kiss, he pulled away.  “Tommy,” he warned as his eyes filled with longing and his chest rose and fell rapidly.  “I think maybe we should stop.”

Tom bit down on his lower lip.  “No,” he murmured as he traced his fingers down Dennis’ smooth chest.  “I don’t want to stop.  I _want_ this.”

Dennis’ eyes danced with excitement.  “Are you sure?” he asked softly.  “Because I don’t want to push you—”

Tom gazed up through his long bangs.  “You’re not,” he whispered as his fingers continued their lazy exploration of Dennis’ torso.  “I want you to touch me.”

“Oh baby,” Dennis groaned and pushing Tom onto his back, he lowered his head and sucked on the taut skin of his throat.  

Hanson gasped when light fingers traveled down his body before pausing just below his navel.  He held his breath as a skillful hand slipped inside his boxers and released his semi-hard cock.  “ _Yesss_ ,” he moaned and his eyes closed as Dennis’ thumb rubbed over his cockhead.  “Oh _YESSS!”_

Grinning against the long column of Tom’s throat, Booker continued to nip and suck, drawing the blood to the surface as he marked his lover as his own.  “Tell me what you want,” he murmured as he lightly played with Tom’s growing erection.

Tom squirmed in pleasure.  “Make me come,” he replied and panting in excitement, he thrust his cock into Dennis' hand.   “I wanna come.”

Dennis sat up and quickly maneuvered his body so that he was straddling Tom’s thighs.  A loud moan escaped his lips at the sight of Tom’s beautiful body lying in supplication, his erect cock weeping from the stimulation.  Reaching down, he released his own cock from the confines of his cotton boxers.  He heard a sharp intake of breath and his gaze met Tom’s wide-eyed stare.  “It’s okay Tommy,” he murmured as he wrapped his fingers around Tom’s shaft.  “Just relax and let me do all the work.”

When Dennis began to move his fist up and down his cock, Tom’s hips thrust forward and his hands grasped at the bed sheet beneath him.  “Harder,” he moaned.  “Oh Dennis… _harder!”_

Booker increased his pace as the fingers of his left hand fondled his own growing erection.  “Do you like that baby?” he teased softly.  “Do you wanna come?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered closed.   “Yes… _God_ yes.”

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, Booker’s left hand fell into rhythm with his right as he started to masturbate.  “Open your eyes,” he commanded quietly, “I want you to look at me.”

Opening his eyes, Tom drew in his breath when he saw Dennis jerking off.  “Fuck,” he moaned and unable to pull his eyes away from the erotic sight in front of him, he moaned again.  “That’s so hot.” 

Booker’s eyes flickered with desire.  “Tell me when you’re close,” he murmured.  “I want to come with you.”

Tom could feel his climax rising and his body writhed beneath Dennis’ touch.  “Faster,” he begged.  “I’m close… oh God Dennis I’m close!”

Dennis’ lips parted and his eyes sparkled with excitement.  “Come for me baby,” he whispered in a breathless voice.  “I wanna hear you scream.”

“I’m close… I’m close… I’m close…” Tom gasped.  “Oh God… oh Dennis… Oh _FUUUCK!”_

Tom ejaculated forcefully, coating Dennis' fingers with his warm fluid.  The sight was so stimulating that it pushed Booker over the edge and throwing back his head, he yelled out Tom’s name as his orgasm hit hard and fast.  His body trembled with pleasure and raising his head, he gazed down into Tom’s serene face as he gradually slowed his hands.  When they were both soft, he collapsed on top of Tom and finding his mouth, he kissed him lovingly.  After several minutes, he lifted his head, and stared deep into his brown eyes.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Tom bit down on his lower lip and nodded.  “Yeah,” he replied quietly.  “But I’m sorry I couldn’t… you know… _help_ you with… you know—”

Booker pressed his finger against Tom’s lips.  “Shhh,” he murmured softly, "stop talking.  We’re taking it slow, remember?  I won’t lie to you baby, I want to feel you touching me but only when you’re comfortable.  Okay?”

Tom blushed and lowered his gaze.  “Okay,” he mumbled and a long silence hung in the air before he spoke again.  “Um Dennis, there’s something else.  Do you have to call me baby?  It’s kind of embarrassing.”

Booker burst out laughing and his eyes twinkled with merriment.  “What would you prefer Hanson… _darling?  Honey?  Sweetpea?”_

Tom’s blush deepened and his lower lip pushed into a soft pout.  “Why do you have to call me any of those names?” he asked moodily.  “It’s stupid.”

The amusement immediately died in Dennis’ eyes and he gave Tom a cold stare.  “Would you let a _woman_ called you baby?” he asked stiffly.  

“That’s different,” Tom mumbled awkwardly.  “When a woman calls me baby it doesn’t sound—”

 _“Gay?”_ Booker spat back.  “Jesus Christ Hanson, believe it or not, having another guy jerk you off _is_ considered gay so you’d better start getting used to it!”

Pushing Dennis away, Tom pulled up his boxers and scrambled from the bed.  “I wasn’t going to say gay,” he replied crossly and grabbing up his clothes, he started to dress.  “I was going to say strange, it sounds _strange_ when you call me baby.  But hey, if you want to start jumping to conclusions every time I open my mouth then go ahead, I don’t give a damn ‘cause you’re the one who looks like a fuckwit, not me.”

A flush of embarrassment reddened Booker’s cheeks.  “Jesus Hanson I'm sorry,” he apologized.  “I guess I overreacted.”

“You think?” Tom shot back sarcastically.  Picking up his boots, he walked towards the door.  “I’ll see you at work.”

“Tommy wait!” Booker called out and clambering from the bed, he hobbled after Tom.  But it was too late, the slamming of the front door echoed throughout the apartment and Tom was gone.

**

When Booker arrived at the Chapel an hour later, he immediately spotted Tom’s blue Mustang and he let out a sigh.  It seemed every time they started to get close, another argument erupted out of nowhere.  It was as though the old antagonisms lay buried just beneath the surface, waiting to explode at the slightest disagreement and he wondered if he and Tom stood any chance of ever being a couple.  It was only now that he was starting to realize how similar they were and in some ways, it was like looking in a mirror.  Tom was forthright, stubborn and opinionated, all traits that Booker knew he too possessed and he was slowly coming to the realization that if they were to make it work, they both needed to give a little.

Heaving himself out of the car, he leaned heavily on his cane and limped into the stain glassed windowed building.  He was tired of being disabled and he longed for the day when he could once again walk unaided.  His physiotherapist was pleased with his progress, but he was impatient, he wanted to get back out in the field and do what he did best.  Working undercover.

It took him a few minutes to climb the stairs and when he walked into the busy operations room, he immediately saw Tom standing by the coffee maker talking to Penhall.  He was surprised to see that he was no longer wearing his sling and he stared down at his cane despondently.  But he quickly pushed his self pity aside.  He knew he needed to clear the air with Tom and apologize for the misunderstanding.  He needed to make things right again because if he did not, he was terrified that their relationship would end before it had even begun.

As he approached, Tom stopped talking and gave him an emotionless greeting.  “Booker.”

Dennis’ free hand balled into a tight fist but he managed to keep his voice neutral.  “Hanson have you got a minute?  I want to talk to you about something.”

Penhall watched the exchange in amusement.  It appeared that they had abandoned their truce and both officers were once again embracing their mutual dislike for each other.  He studied Booker’s face and tried to see if there was any sign that he still fancied Tom but his expression was impossible to read.  With a sigh, he stepped forward and laid a hand on both men’s shoulders.  “You’d better sort out your differences fellas, ‘cause otherwise, Fuller’s going to send one of you packing.”

Tom put down his coffee cup and gave Dennis an irritated look.  “Fine,” he huffed.  “One minute.”

Dennis turned away and headed towards the locker room.  Once inside, he did a cursory check to make sure it was empty and when Tom arrived, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to one side.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered in a low voice, "you were right. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“No you shouldn’t have,” Tom replied sulkily but when he saw Booker’s sad expression, he felt his anger wash away.  “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.”

A slow grin played over Booker’s lips and stepping forward, he placed his hand on Tom’s hip.  “Am I forgiven?”

Hanson tilted his head on one side and gave Booker a cheeky look.  “I dunno,” he murmured.  “How are you going to make it up to me?”

Booker groaned and dropping his cane, he maneuvered Tom so that his back pressed against a metal locker.  “Dinner?” he crooned softly, pushing his body against Tom’s as his lips brushed against his soft pout.  “Then back to my place for—”

“Hanson, are you in here?”

At the sound of Doug’s voice, Booker quickly stepped backwards, his face flushing with embarrassment.  When Penhall rounded the corner, he stared at the two flustered men.  Noticing the cane on the floor, he bent forward and picking it up, he handed it to Dennis before turning his attention to Tom.  “Geez Hanson, I know you and Booker aren’t getting along but knocking a man’s cane out of his hand is hitting below the belt, don’t you think?”

Tom’s face flamed red and he rubbed his fingers furiously over his top lip.  “I-I…” he stammered.

“He didn’t,” Booker retorted quickly.  “I dropped it.”

Doug narrowed his eyes and stared at both men in turn.  “Then he should have… picked it… up,” he replied slowly.

Dennis stepped forward.  “He was just about to but—”

“There’s something weird going on between you two,” Doug interrupted.  “But I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“It’s nothing,” Tom replied quickly.  “We’re just trying to find a way to get along, that’s all.”

Not convinced by Tom’s answer, Penhall continued to stare at them for a few moments longer before finally accepting the explanation.  “Fuller wants to see you both in his office.”

“What about?” Booker asked worriedly.

A small smile curved Doug’s lips.  “Do I _look_ like your secretary Booker?”

Dennis scowled and leaning heavily on his cane, he hobbled towards the door.  As Tom started to follow him, Doug grabbed hold of his arm.  “Are you _sure_ everything’s okay with you and Booker?  ‘Cause you know Fuller will transfer one of you if there’s any hint of a problem.”

“I’m sure,” Tom replied, but even to his own ears, the lie did not sound convincing.

**

When Tom walked into Fuller’s office, he found Dennis already seated.  “What’s up Coach?”

Captain Adam Fuller stood up and walking across the room, he stopped opposite the two young officers and resting his backside on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms across his chest.  “Robbie Watkins has been arrested,” he informed them quietly.

Tom cast a quick glance at Dennis’ stony expression before returning his gaze to his superior officer.  “What’s the charge?” he asked in a strained voice.

“Attempted murder,” Fuller replied.  “But his parents have got some high priced lawyer so it’s doubtful the charge will stick.”

Hanson thought back to what he knew about Robbie Watkins.  “How can they afford it?  I didn’t think his family had money.”

“They don’t,” Fuller replied tersely, "but they’re connected.”

“Great,” Tom sighed sarcastically.  “So now we’re caught up in a gang related court case.”

Fuller turned his attention towards Dennis, who was unusually quiet.  “Anything you’d like to say Booker?”

“When can I get back out in the field?”

Adam let out a sigh.  “You can’t, not until the court case is over.  It’s too dangerous now that we know Watkins is affiliated with a gang.  You’ll both remain on desk duty until—”

“No!”

A deep frown creased Fuller’s brow.  “Are you disobeying my order Booker?”

Hanson’s eyes darted nervously from Booker, to his captain and back to Booker.  “I don’t think he was disobeying you Coach,” he interceded quickly.  “I think he was just—”

Booker shot Tom an irritated look.  “I don’t need you sticking up for me Hanson.  I can fight my own battles.”

Fuller’s scowl deepened.  “You’d better tread carefully Booker, you’re already skating on thin ice.”

Dennis grabbed hold of his cane and hauled himself out of the chair.  “Yeah?  Well maybe you should go ahead and transfer me out of here ‘cause I’m sick of this bullshit!”

“Dennis…” Tom started as Booker walked from the room.

Fuller held up his hand.  “Let him go.  The news about Watkins has rattled him, he just needs time to calm down.”

However, Tom was not convinced that Dennis just needed time to digest the news.  Booker was unpredictable and he had no idea what the hotheaded officer would do next.  



	12. Biding Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: When Tom walked into Fuller’s office, he found Dennis already seated. “What’s up Coach?”_
> 
> _Captain Adam Fuller stood up and walking across the room, he stopped opposite the two young officers and resting his backside on the edge of his desk, he folded his arms across his chest. “Robbie Watkins has been arrested,” he informed them quietly._
> 
> _Tom cast a quick glance at Dennis’ stony expression before returning his gaze to his superior officer. “What’s the charge?” he asked in a strained voice._
> 
> _“Attempted murder,” Fuller replied. “But his parents have got some high priced lawyer so it’s doubtful the charge will stick.”_
> 
> _Hanson thought back to what he knew about Robbie Watkins. “How can they afford it? I didn’t think his family had money.”_
> 
> _“They don’t,” Fuller replied tersely. “But they’re connected.”_
> 
> _“Great,” Tom sighed sarcastically. “So now we’re caught up in a gang related court case.”_
> 
> _Fuller turned his attention towards Dennis, who was unusually quiet. “Anything you’d like to say Booker?”_
> 
> _“When can I get back out in the field?”_
> 
> _Adam let out a sigh. “You can’t, not until the court case is over. It’s too dangerous now that we know Watkins is affiliated with a gang. You’ll both remain on desk duty until—”_
> 
> _“No!”_
> 
> _A deep frown creased Fuller’s brow. “Are you disobeying my order Booker?”_
> 
> _Hanson’s eyes darted nervously from Booker, to his captain and back to Booker. “I don’t think he was disobeying you Coach,” he interceded quickly. “I think he was just—”_
> 
> _Booker shot Tom an irritated look. “I don’t need you sticking up for me Hanson. I can fight my own battles.”_
> 
> _Fuller’s scowl deepened. “You’d better tread carefully Booker, you’re already skating on thin ice.”_
> 
> _Dennis grabbed hold of his cane and hauled himself out of the chair. “Yeah? Well maybe you should go ahead and transfer me out of here ‘cause I’m sick of this bullshit!”_
> 
> _“Dennis…” Tom started as Booker walked from the room, but Fuller held up his hand. “Let him go. The news about Watkins has rattled him, he just needs time to calm down.”_
> 
> _However, Tom was not convinced that Dennis just needed time to digest the news. Booker was unpredictable and he had no idea what the hotheaded officer would do next._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888290/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Biding Time**  

The artificial heat pumping into the operations room through the building’s vents overpowered Tom as soon as he walked out of Fuller’s office and he unzipped his jacket.  Glancing around the bustling workplace, he quickly surmised that Booker must have left and he decided to ignore his captain and go after him, in the vain hope that he could calm him down.  Although he understood his partner’s frustration, he knew it was no good arguing the point with their superior.  They were desk bound for as long as it took the judicial system to bring the case to court and like it or not, they had to accept it.  However, he also knew that convincing Booker of that fact would not be easy.  The young cop often balked at authority and was inclined to take matters into his own hands.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Doug striding towards him like a man on a mission and he sighed in annoyance.  All he wanted was to leave as quickly as possible and catch up with Booker so that they could talk but he knew avoiding Penhall would be impossible.  Beads of sweat pricked at his armpits and shrugging out of his jacket, he threw it onto a chair and turned to greet his best friend.  “What?” he grunted rudely.

Doug stopped and a scowl marred his normally cheerful features.  “Fuck Hanson, what’s _your_ problem?”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Tom attempted to calm himself.  “Sorry,” he sighed, “I’m just feeling—”

However, Doug’s attention was momentarily distracted.  “Whoa!  That’s some hickey!  Who were _you_ with last night?”

Caught off guard, Tom’s hand immediately flew to his neck and a soft blush heated his face.  “W-What?  N-Nobody,” he stammered.

Penhall’s mouth split into a wide grin.  “Don’t play coy with me Hanson,” he chuckled.  “Someone’s been sucking on your neck, so spill, was it a one night stand or are you seeing someone new?”

Tom’s blush deepened to a dark crimson.  “It’s no one,” he muttered awkwardly and grabbing his jacket, he pulled it on and yanked up the zipper, effectively covering the love bite.

Tilting his head on one side, Doug studied Tom’s face with interest.  “You’ve been acting weird for weeks,” he stated quietly.  “Has it got something to do with Booker?”

“W-What do you mean?” Tom spluttered and his eyes darted nervously around the room looking for a means of escape.  

Doug’s eyebrows suddenly rose in shocked disbelief and grabbing Hanson by the arm, he pulled him into a corner.  “Oh my God,” he gasped, "he didn’t hit on you did he?”

Panic gripped at Tom’s heart and his eyes bulged.  “W-Wha—”

“The love bite!” Penhall hissed and raising his finger, he poked Tom in the neck for effect.  “Did you get it so he’d leave you alone?”

“N-NO!” Tom exclaimed and the tightness in his chest increased at the thought of just how close Doug was to the truth.  Realizing that he needed to diffuse the situation before Penhall could interrogate him further, he decided to take on an offensive strategy rather than a defensive one.   “Jesus Christ Penhall, there’s no conspiracy.  I met a girl at a bar, she came back to my place and we fucked.  I didn’t know I had to inform you of every one of my sexual encounters!”

The room suddenly went silent and it was only then that Tom realized he had been yelling and that everyone had heard his exasperated exclamation.  He could feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at him and once again, his face burned red.  “What the hell are you all looking at?” he snarled and pushing past a startled Penhall, he stormed down the stairs.

Walking outside, a light breeze cooled his flaming face.  Looking left to right, he finally spotted Booker lurking in the shadows of the narrow alleyway across the street, smoking a cigarette.  The frantic manner in which he sucked in a lungful of nicotine before quickly exhaling the used smoke indicated that he was not in a good mood and Tom approached warily.  He could feel Dennis’ eyes boring into him as he crossed the road and when he stopped in front of him, he gave a hesitant smile.  “You ran out of there pretty quick for a man on a cane.”

The lame joke did not help to lighten Dennis’ mood.  “Is that funny to you?” he snapped and before Tom could apologize, he threw his cane angrily to the ground.  “I fucking hate this!  I’m not a fucking cripple!  I’m a cop and a fucking good one!  How dare he stop me from doing my job!”

Taken aback by the ferocity of Booker’s words, Tom stood staring at him open mouthed for several seconds before stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm.  “That’s not why we’re on desk duty Dennis, it’s because of the court case.  Robbie Watkins’ family has affiliations with a gang and they know who we are.  It’s safer for everyone if we keep a low profile until—”

“BULLSHIT!” Booker yelled angrily and spittle flew from his lips at the forcefulness of the expletive.  “BULL… FUCKING… _SHIT!_   He’s putting us out to pasture!”

The idiom conjured up an image of two cows grazing and Tom's mouth twitched into a grin.  Annoyed by Hanson’s lack of seriousness, Booker’s scowl deepened and tossing his cigarette onto the pavement, he angrily ground it out with the toe of his boot.  “What’s so fucking funny?”

Tom’s grin widened and a twinkling of cheekiness shone in his eyes.  “Moo.”

For a fraction of a second, Booker’s eyes darkened before a small smile played over his lips.  “Idiot,” he muttered.

Stepping forward Tom placed his hands on Dennis’ hips and brushed his lips against the protruding flesh of his pout.  “But a lovable idiot, right?” he murmured.

Booker let out a soft moan and pushing Tom’s back against the cold brick of the adjacent building, he kissed him passionately.  Hanson immediately responded and grasping hold of Booker’s backside, he pulled him close.  Breaking the kiss, Dennis dropped his head and sucked at the taut flesh between Tom’s neck and shoulder.  “Jesus,” he groaned as he rubbed his hardening cock against Tom’s growing bulge.  “You make me so fucking horny.”

The thrill of making out somewhere so public, where any moment one of their colleagues might find them in a compromising position excited Tom and his hands squeezed Booker’s butt cheeks.  “Touch me,” he whispered.

Lifting his head, Booker’s fevered gaze penetrated Tom’s liquid brown eyes.  “I could,” he murmured seductively.  “Or… I could suck you?” 

The thought of Booker’s full pout wrapped around his cock sent a shiver of delight down Tom’s spine and his legs started to tremble.  His body tingled with excitement but he also felt a tremor of fear.  If he said yes, they would take their relationship to a more intimate level and he was not sure if he was ready for that step.  But as his erection strained against the confines of his jeans, he longed to gain his release and eventually, his cock ruled his head and gazing into Booker’s expectant eyes, he whispered his answer in an unsteady voice. “Suck me.”

A glint of excitement flashed in Dennis’ dark eyes and biting down on his lower lip, his fingers nimbly popped the button of Tom’s denims.  He heard a sharp intake of breath as he carefully pulled down the zipper and leaning forward, he nuzzled against Tom’s ear.  “I’m gonna make you scream.”

Tom’s pupils dilated with arousal and his breathing became labored.  “Do it,” he moaned.

Booker dropped to his knees.  Lowering Tom’s jeans, he could feel his legs trembling and bending forward, he lightly mouthed over the large bulge pressing against the soft material of his boxers.   Hanson’s hips immediately bucked forward and his fingers entwined in Booker’s hair.  Smiling against the hard mound, Dennis’ fingers slipped inside the elastic waistband and he slowly pulled down Tom’s boxers, revealing his burgeoning erection.

Raising his eyes, he gazed up at Tom and licked his lips.  “Ready?”

Tom’s wide-eyed stare penetrated his soul and when he received a nod of affirmation, his heart fluttered.  He was so in love with the man standing in front of him that at times, he found it difficult to breathe.  Never before had he felt such a longing, such a _craving_ to touch and taste another human being.  He wanted to spend hours exploring every inch of Tom’s body and when he was finished, he wanted to start over again.  The yearning he felt was almost a compulsion, a need that he had to fulfill to feel complete.  It was as if he had been cast under a spell; he was entranced and he never wanted it to end.

A cool breeze blew down the alleyway and discarded food wrappers fluttered across the pavement.  But Booker was oblivious to the decay and detritus of their surroundings and gently taking hold of the base of Tom’s cock, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the tip.

A strangled cry echoed in the narrow lane and long fingers tangled in his hair.  Flicking out his tongue, he swirled it around the hard coronal ridge before pressing his lips against the weeping slit and sucking deeply.  He moaned in pleasure at the taste of Tom’s juices and parting his lips, he took him into his mouth.

Tom’s hips thrust forward and another soft cry resonated around the deserted alley.  Frantic fingers pulled at his hair but he ignored the pain as he ran his mouth along the erect shaft.  When Tom thrust deep inside him, he opened up his throat and let him take control.  

“Oh fuck… oh fuck,” Tom groaned as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of Booker’s willing mouth.  Never before could he remember a blowjob so good, a partner so willing and just when he thought it could not get any better, Booker began to hum.

“JEEEZ- _UUUSSS!”_ he screamed and losing any inhibitions he had left, he frantically thrust his hips back and forth.  “Dennis!  Dennis!  I’m coming!  I’m coming!”

Booker could feel Tom trying to pull away but he held onto his hips to prevent him from moving.  Moments later, a loud yell cut through the air and warm salty fluid shot down the back of his throat, signaling Tom’s release.  He was so aroused by the intensity of Tom’s orgasm that when he fumbled inside his jeans and touched his cock, he immediately climaxed.  As gentle fingers played with his hair, he lapped and sucked at Tom’s softening cock, reveling in the uniqueness of his taste.  Minutes passed before he slowly got to his feet and a hot mouth immediately found his and kissed him deeply.  

When they eventually pulled apart, he brushed Tom’s sweaty hair from his eyes and smiled.  “Did you enjoy that?” he asked mischievously.

A pink hue tinged Tom’s cheeks.  “I tried to warn you,” he murmured, "but you didn’t stop.”

Brushing his lips against Tom’s, Booker chuckled.  “Unlike most women, I _like_ giving head and the best part is the tasting.”

Tom’s blush deepened and he rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth.  “Really?” he mumbled against his fingers.

Booker pulled Tom’s hand away and kissed him tenderly.  “Really,” he affirmed softly.  “You’ve got a lot to learn Tommy and I can’t wait to teach you.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down Tom’s spine and a shy smile played over his lips.  “I look forward to it.”

Dennis chuckled again and stepping back, he gazed down at the wet patch on the front of his denims.  “That hasn't happened to me since I was fourteen,” he muttered.  “Jesus Hanson, I don’t know what it is about you, but just looking at you turns me on.”

Zipping up his jeans, Tom grinned.  “It’s a curse, but hey someone’s got to bear it.”

Booker laughed out loud and pulled him into a hug.  Tom felt an overwhelming sense of emotion and wrapping his arms around the dark haired officer’s waist, he squeezed him tight.

When they finally broke apart, Tom bent down to pick up the discarded cane but a firm hand pulled him back.  “Leave it,” Booker murmured.  “I don’t want to use it anymore.”

Tom opened his mouth to speak but he immediately closed it when he saw the determined look on his friend’s face.  They exited the alleyway together and walked slowly across the road in silence, stopping beside Booker’s car.  “I’m going home to change,” Dennis stated in a quiet voice.  “Cover for me?”

“Sure,” Tom replied quietly but as he watched Dennis drive away, he could not help but feel that the elation of their encounter was now somehow shrouded in sadness.  



	13. Hidden Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: “Oh fuck… oh fuck,” Tom groaned as he slowly pumped his cock in and out of Booker’s willing mouth. Never before could he remember a blowjob so good, a partner so willing and just when he thought it could not get any better, Booker began to hum._
> 
> _“JEEEZ-UUUSSS!” he screamed and losing any inhibitions he had left, he frantically thrust his hips back and forth. “Dennis! Dennis! I’m coming! I’m coming!”_
> 
> _Booker could feel Tom trying to pull away but he held onto his hips to prevent him from moving. Moments later, a loud yell cut through the air and warm salty fluid shot down the back of his throat, signaling Tom’s release. He was so aroused by the intensity of Tom’s orgasm that when he fumbled inside his jeans and touched his cock, he immediately climaxed. As gentle fingers played with his hair, he lapped and sucked at Tom’s softening cock, reveling in the uniqueness of his taste. Minutes passed before he slowly got to his feet and a hot mouth immediately found his and kissed him deeply._
> 
> _When they eventually pulled apart, he brushed Tom’s sweaty hair from his eyes and smiled. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked mischievously._
> 
> _A pink hue tinged Tom’s cheeks. “I tried to warn you,” he murmured. “But you didn’t stop.”_
> 
> _Brushing his lips against Tom’s, Booker chuckled. “Unlike most women, I like giving head and the best part is the tasting.”_
> 
> _Tom’s blush deepened and he rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth. “Really?” he mumbled against his fingers._
> 
> _Booker pulled Tom’s hand away and kissed him tenderly. “Really,” he affirmed softly. “You’ve got a lot to learn Tommy and I can’t wait to teach you.”_
> 
> _A shiver of anticipation ran down Tom’s spine and a shy smile played over his lips. “I look forward to it.”_
> 
> _Dennis chuckled again and stepping back, he gazed down at the wet patch on the front of his denims. “That hasn't happened to me since I was fourteen,” he muttered. “Jesus Hanson, I don’t know what it is about you, but just looking at you turns me on.”_
> 
> _Zipping up his jeans, Tom grinned. “It’s a curse, but hey someone’s got to bear it.”_
> 
> _Booker laughed out loud and pulled him into a hug. Tom felt an overwhelming sense of emotion and wrapping his arms around the dark haired officer’s waist, he squeezed him tight._
> 
> _When they finally broke apart, Tom bent down to pick up the discarded cane but a firm hand pulled him back. “Leave it,” Booker murmured. “I don’t want to use it anymore.”_
> 
> _Tom opened his mouth to speak but he immediately closed it when he saw the determined look on his friend’s face. They exited the alleyway together and walked slowly across the road in silence, stopping beside Booker’s car. “I’m going home to change,” Dennis stated in a quiet voice. “Cover for me?”_
> 
> _“Sure,” Tom replied quietly but as he watched Dennis drive away, he could not help but feel that the elation of their encounter was now somehow shrouded in sadness._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590888000/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Hidden Pain**  

A heavy rain fell from the night sky and the wipers of Booker’s Cadillac swept hypnotically back and forth across the windshield.  Fragmented neon splashed a kaleidoscope of color across the wet footpaths, semi-illuminating those who were unfortunate enough to have been caught in the storm.  Tom sat silently in the passenger seat, his mind in turmoil as he attempted to make sense of the day’s events.

When he had re-entered the Chapel after his encounter with Booker, everyone, including Doug, had kept their distance, refusing to meet his eye.  He was not upset, he wanted the alone time so he could come to terms with what had happened in the alleyway.  His and Booker’s relationship was suddenly hurtling down the highway at 100mph and he honestly did not know if he wanted to slam on the brakes or press the accelerator to the floor.  In the space of four days, he had gone from being a staunch heterosexual male to a guy who had achieved one of his most explosive orgasms whilst being sucked off by another man in a filthy laneway.  It was confusing. When he was with Booker, he wanted nothing more than to feel his hot lips pressed against him but when alone, he struggled to understand his feelings.  There was still a nagging voice in his head telling him it was wrong, that people would be so disappointed in his decision to enter into a homosexual relationship.  It was difficult for him to get his head around and even though he knew his feelings for Dennis were real, he could not help but wonder if perhaps the knock on the head he had received in the car accident had somehow changed his perceptions on life.

When Booker had returned to the Chapel dressed in a clean pair of denims, they had purposely avoided each other so as not to raise any suspicions.  The day had been long and boring with no case to work on and when five o’clock came around, he had watched Booker slowly limp down the stairs before following him several minutes later.  They had met in the car park and Dennis had once again suggested dinner.  He had agreed somewhat reluctantly, unsure where the night would take them after that.  They had left in separate cars and Booker had picked him up at his apartment an hour later.  Dinner had been awkward, but he could not understand why.  All he knew was that after their sexual liaison, Booker’s demeanor had changed.  He knew the tossing away of the cane had been somewhat symbolic; Dennis no longer wanted to be viewed by others as disabled and he believed that the cane was starting to define him.  But what Tom did not understand was the faraway look in Booker’s eyes when they had parted company outside the Chapel and he was starting to realize that his lover was a bit of an enigma.  

Turning his head, he stared despondently out of the window at the blurred rainbow of colors that mottled the wet pavement.  He was tired and he longed to crawl into his bed alone and block out the irritating voice in his head.  

When the car slowed, he suddenly realized that they were pulling up outside his apartment.  Unbuckling his seat belt, he turned to bid Booker goodnight and all his previous intentions went out the window.  Two jet black eyes peered out through the darkness, their intense scrutiny causing his breath to catch in his throat.  All thoughts of spending the night alone vanished and leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Dennis’ and kissed him lovingly.  “Want to stay the night?” he murmured.

Dennis kissed him briefly then pulled away.  “Not tonight,” he muttered distractedly.

Leaning back in his seat, Tom studied Booker’s face.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”  A flicker of sadness flashed in Dennis’ eyes but it disappeared so quickly that he could not be sure that he had really seen it.  “Is it me?” he asked quietly.  “Have you changed your mind about us?”

“No!” Dennis exclaimed in surprise, but when he saw the hurt in Tom’s eyes, he realized that his lover honestly believed that his melancholy mood had something to do with him.  He quickly unbuckled his seat belt and leaning across the car, he pulled Tom into a clumsy embrace.  “Of course I haven’t changed my mind.  Jesus Christ Hanson, I’ve waited six months to hold you in my arms.  Do you really think I’d throw it all away after only four days?”

Tom pulled away and tilting his head on one side, he stared at Dennis.  “I don’t know what to think,” he muttered truthfully.  “I’m so confused and I figured maybe you were too.”

Booker’s eyes clouded over.  “Not about us I’m not,” he replied stiffly.  “But if _you’re_ having second thoughts then maybe you should walk away now.”

Hanson let out an exasperated snort.  “That’s not what I’m saying Booker.  Why do you always put words in my mouth?  Do you know how annoying that is?”

The tenseness in Dennis’ shoulders relaxed and he sighed heavily.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.  “I have a lot on my mind.  Let’s just leave it for tonight… before we get into another argument.”

It was not the conclusion that Tom had hoped for but he recognized Booker’s need to be alone.  He climbed out of the car and bending over, he peered through the open door.  “See you tomorrow?”

Dennis managed a small smile.  “Sure.”  When the door slammed closed, he pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the night.

**

The  operations area of the Chapel was quieter than it had been the day before and when Tom cast his eye around the room, he immediately noticed Booker’s absence.  He checked his watch and a small frown furrowed his brow.  When he spotted Penhall exiting Fuller’s office, he hurried over to his friend.  “Have you seen Booker?”

Doug’s eyebrow arched in surprise.  “Geez Hanson, what is it with you two?  Lately, it’s like you’re joined at the hip.”

“Do you know where he is or not?” Tom snapped irritably.  He was tired of Doug’s constant observations but he was also worried that the young officer might uncover their secret.  His affair with Booker was still so new that he did not feel ready to explain to his best friend how, seemingly overnight, he had turned from being heterosexual to entering into a gay relationship with a man he had once hated.  Every time he thought about it, it made his head spin and he could just imagine what Doug’s reaction would be.  First there would be the look of horror, then disbelief and then there would be the interrogation, _“Why are you doing this?  Are you out of your mind?  You’re not gay!”_   It was a conversation he was dreading but he was realistic enough to know that one day, the words would have to be said.

A hard expression passed over Penhall’s face.  “I’m getting a little tired of your attitude Hanson,” he muttered in a low voice.  “Whatever your issue is, get over it or you’re going to find yourself without a best friend.”

Tom passed a shaky hand through his hair and gave his friend a wan smile.  “Sorry.  I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”  That he had just parroted Booker’s words was not lost on him and a shiver of apprehension ran through his body.  “Do you know where he is?”

Doug narrowed his eyes and studied Tom’s face for several moments before replying.  “He called in sick.”

A second shiver ran down Tom’s spine.  Booker was up to something and he feared the worst.  “Is Fuller in his office?” he asked in a voice that sounded unsteady even to his own ears.

When Penhall nodded, Hanson turned away and walked towards his superior’s office.  He knocked on the open door, “Coach, can I see you for a moment?”

“Come in Hanson,” Fuller replied.  “What’s on your mind?”

Hanson stepped into the room and gave Fuller a beseeching look.  “I uh, I wondered if I could take the day off Coach, I’m not feeling too good.”

Fuller leaned back in his chair and gave Tom a hard look.  “There seems to be a lot of that going around.  First Booker and now you.  So what sudden malady have _you_ been afflicted with Hanson?”

Tom stared back at his captain and his expression was akin to a deer caught in a car’s headlights.  Several long seconds ticked by before his brain finally kicked into gear.  “Toothache!” he exclaimed a little too loudly and he probed his tongue theatrically around his mouth.  “I need to see a dentist.”

Adam Fuller’s eyes narrowed skeptically.  “Is that right?” he asked quietly.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Booker would it?”

“No Cap’n,” Tom replied, his face a picture of wide-eyed innocence.  

The second hand of the wall clock ticked noisily as Fuller pondered his decision.  After several long, agonizing minutes, he leaned forward and placed both palms on his desk.  “Twenty-four hours Hanson, that’s all you get.  Understood?”

Tom lowered his gaze so he would not have to meet his captain’s stern glare.  “Yes Coach.”

Turning away, he hurried from Fuller’s office and quickly ran down the stairs before Penhall could accost him with any more questions.  It was only when he was sitting in his Mustang that he realized he had no clue as to where Booker might be.  Closing his eyes, he gripped the steering wheel and attempted to channel his lover’s thoughts.  Immediately, a vision popped into his mind and turning the key in the ignition, he sped out of the car park.

** 

Classes were in session and the car park of Franklin High School was bereft of students.  A lone figure dressed in black stood beneath the tall oak tree that had provided the backdrop to the horror day two months before.  Tom parked his car and walked across the uncut grass.   Stopping in front of his lover, he laid a gentle hand on his arm.  “What are you doing here Dennis?” he asked gently.

Booker lifted his head and Tom was shocked to see tears in his eyes.  He quickly pulled him to his chest and hugged him tight.  “Hey, it’s okay.  We survived and something good came out of it… we’re together now.”

Lifting his tear stained face, Dennis shook his head.  “You don’t get it Hanson,” he muttered miserably.  “Robbie Watkins will walk free and it’ll all be for nothing.  I’ll have been left disabled for nothing.”

“We don’t know that,” Tom replied softly, “and it’s still early days.  You’ve got more physio to go through and I’m sure that in a few months time you’ll be fine.  You’ve just got to be patient.”

Booker’s demeanor immediately changed and he pushed Hanson away.  “Bullshit,” he snarled bitterly.  “I’ll _never_ be the same again and that little shit will walk free because he’s had a hard life or his parents are divorced or because of some other lame-assed excuse that the judge will take into consideration.  It’s not fair Hanson, it’s not fucking _fair!”_

As he swiped angrily at the hot tears streaming down his face, Tom took hold of his free hand and gave the fingers a squeeze.  “You’re right, it’s _not_ fair.  But there’s nothing we can do about it, we just have to let the case go through due process and hopefully—”

Booker snatched his hand away in anger.  “Why do you have to do _everything_ by the book Hanson?” he yelled.  “You’re such a fucking puritan!”

Tom’s eyes filled with hurt.  “Why are you attacking me?” he asked in a subdued voice.  “I agree with everything you say but I don’t see any way around it.  It’s up to the court to decide what happens to Watkins.”

Dennis rolled his eyes.  “Oh for fuck’s sake Hanson, we don’t have to sit here and do nothing, We need to be proactive!  There are things we can do to make sure this scumbag never points a gun at anyone else EVER AGAIN!”

A cold chill of foreboding ran through Tom’s body.  “What kind of things?” he asked nervously.  “Fuller said—”

“Fuck Fuller,” Booker growled and his dark eyes flashed determinedly.  “I’ve got a plan.”  



	14. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Classes were in session and the car park of Franklin High School was bereft of students. A lone figure dressed in black stood beneath the tall oak tree that had provided the backdrop to the horror day two months before. Tom parked his car and walked across the uncut grass. Stopping in front of his lover, he laid a gentle hand on his arm. “What are you doing here Dennis?” he asked gently._
> 
> _Booker lifted his head and Tom was shocked to see tears in his eyes. He quickly pulled him to his chest and hugged him tight. “Hey, it’s okay. We survived and something good came out of it… we’re together now.”_
> 
> _Lifting his tear stained face, Dennis shook his head. “You don’t get it Hanson,” he muttered miserably. “Robbie Watkins will walk free and it’ll all be for nothing. I’ll have been left disabled for nothing.”_
> 
> _“We don’t know that,” Tom replied softly, “and it’s still early days. You’ve got more physio to go through and I’m sure that in a few months time you’ll be fine. You’ve just got to be patient.”_
> 
> _Booker’s demeanor immediately changed and he pushed Hanson away. “Bullshit,” he snarled bitterly. “I’ll never be the same again and that little shit will walk free because he’s had a hard life or his parents are divorced or because of some other lame-assed excuse that the judge will take into consideration. It’s not fair Hanson, it’s not fucking fair!”_
> 
> _As he swiped angrily at the hot tears streaming down his face, Tom took hold of his free hand and gave the fingers a squeeze. “You’re right, it’s not fair. But there’s nothing we can do about it, we just have to let the case go through due process and hopefully—”_
> 
> _Booker snatched his hand away in anger. “Why do you have to do everything by the book Hanson?” he yelled. “You’re such a fucking puritan!”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes filled with hurt. “Why are you attacking me?” he asked in a subdued voice. “I agree with everything you say but I don’t see any way around it. It’s up to the court to decide what happens to Watkins.”_
> 
> _Dennis rolled his eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake Hanson, we don’t have to sit here and do nothing, We need to be proactive! There are things we can do to make sure this scumbag never points a gun at anyone else EVER AGAIN!”_
> 
> _A cold chill of foreboding ran through Tom’s body. “What kind of things?” he asked nervously. “Fuller said—”_
> 
> _“Fuck Fuller,” Booker growled and his dark eyes flashed determinedly. “I’ve got a plan,"_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887770/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Decisions**  

Sitting in Booker’s car, Tom chewed at his thumbnail as he stared distractedly at the spot under the oak tree where only months before, he had lain bleeding from a gunshot wound.  He could still feel the terror of that day, the all-consuming fear he had felt at not knowing whether his partner lay dead and whether or not the crazed gunman would come back and finish him off too.  As he recounted the horror, he knew Booker was right; Robbie Watkins did not deserve to go free.  He may have had a difficult upbringing but that did not give him an excuse to pull out a gun and attempt to murder two people in cold blood.  When Dennis had laid out his plan in a rush of almost maniacal excitement, it had worried Tom that he seemed hell bent on carrying it out with or without him.  It was true what Booker had said, he _was_ a stickler for the rules and the thought of disobeying their commanding officer unnerved him.  But the thought of his lover going it alone terrified him more and that was when he made his decision.

Tearing his eyes away from the untidy expanse of lawn, he let out a resigned sigh.  “Fuller’s gonna kill us.”

A slow smile spread over Booker’s face.  “So is that a yes?”

Tom’s thumb found its way back into his mouth and he began to chew furiously at the nail’s jagged edges.  “I guess,” he mumbled.  “But if we do this, we do it in our own time.  I don’t want to piss off Fuller more than we have to.”

Booker playfully ruffled Tom’s hair.  “You’re _such_ a good boy Tommy,” he teased in a singsong voice.  “I bet you were an angelic little choir boy in church.”

A deep scowl furrowed Tom’s brow and he angrily swatted Dennis’ hand away.  “Fuck off!” he barked.  He did not want reminding of his strict religious upbringing, especially now.  Leviticus 18:22 suddenly emerged from the recesses of his mind and the words sent a shiver down his spine, _thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination._   His cheeks burned with shame and he quickly ducked his head.  What he was doing was an abomination and he was heading straight to hell.

Realizing that he had somehow hit a raw nerve, Booker leaned forward and kissed Tom tenderly on the lips.  “Hey, I’m sorry,” he murmured softly.  “I was only joking.”

Seconds passed before Tom lifted his head and gave his lover a half smile.  “No, I overreacted.  It’s just… I was brought up believing that homosexuality is a sin and I guess I don’t need to be reminded of those days.”

Dennis’ dark eyes widened in surprise.  “You really _were_ a choir boy?  Shit, I was only messing about, I didn’t really think that…”  A broad grin split his mouth and his eyes twinkled with mischief.  “God, I bet you were _sooo_ cute.”

This time Tom took the teasing in good humor.  Pressing his lips against Dennis’, he kissed him tenderly.  “You have no idea,” he murmured against his lover’s mouth.

A loud groan escaped Booker’s lips and his tongue desperately sought out Tom’s as his hand traveled down his lithe body.  His fingers sought out the growing mound in Hanson’s denims and he gently squeezed the hardness, eliciting a soft moan from his lover.  Breaking the kiss, he gazed deep into Tom’s eyes.  “Let’s start the investigating tomorrow,” he suggested quietly.  “How ‘bout we go back to your place and get naked.”

Tom’s eyes flashed with desire and he nodded his assent.  Buckling their seat belts, they drove the short distance to Hanson’s apartment.  Riding the elevator up to the fourth floor, they could barely keep their hands off each other and Tom knew that their relationship had shifted into a higher gear.  However, he was not afraid, despite the setback of having Leviticus 18:22 echoing in his mind; he was ready to prove to Booker that he was committed.

Fumbling the key in the lock, he finally opened the door of his apartment and pulled Dennis inside.  Slamming the door closed, he pushed Booker against the hard wood and pressed his body against him as their mouths clashed together.  Their fervor quickly escalated and before he could think too much about what he was doing, he reached down and stroked his fingers over the bulge in Dennis’ jeans.  

Excited by the unexpected advances, Booker maneuvered Tom’s body backwards.  “Bedroom,” he moaned against his lover’s mouth.  “Now.”

They barely broke their kiss as they stumbled blindly into the bedroom.  Both men kicked off their boots before collapsing onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.  Clumsy fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers until finally, they lay naked together on the crumpled sheets.  Not wanting the moment to end too soon, Booker purposely slowed their kiss before breaking apart and shifting his gaze to Tom’s blazing eyes.  “Touch me,” he whispered.

Tom bit down on his lower lip and his hand hesitated for a moment before he reached down and touched Dennis’ erect cock.  Booker closed his eyes and falling back against the pillow, he let out a soft moan.  “Oh baby,” he groaned in pleasure.  “Again.  Touch me again.”

Nervous but at the same time excited at the thought of finally feeling Booker writhing beneath his touch, Tom lightly ran his index finger up and down the underside of his cock.  Dennis’ eyes remained closed but his body squirmed in delight.  Growing bolder, Tom’s thumb explored the engorged cockhead and he coated his fingers in the precum that leaked from the tip before wrapping them around Dennis’ erect shaft and moving his hand slowly up and down.

Dennis’ let out a soft cry and his hips lifted off the mattress.  “Harder,” he moaned.  “Oh baby, harder!”

Encouraged by Dennis’ obvious pleasure, Tom increased his pace, while his eyes remained fixed on his lover’s enraptured expression.  His own cock swelled at the feel of Booker’s hard shaft moving through his hand but he ignored the urge to touch himself, instead he concentrated on giving the best handjob he knew how.  Licking his lips, he moved closer and murmured in Booker’s ear, “Open your eyes.”

Booker’s eyes fluttered open and his dilated pupils shone excitedly as his body continued to squirm.  

“Do you want to come?” Tom asked softly.

“ _Yesss!”_ Dennis hissed and he thrust his cock forcibly into Tom’s fist.  “Oh God Tommy… faster… faster… FASTER!”

Tom’s hand worked furiously over Booker’s cock and he knew it would not take long for him to reach his climax.  Looking down to see his lover’s body writhing beneath him caused a feeling of pure love to erupt from his heart and leaning forward, he pressed his mouth against Booker’s ear.  “I _love_ you,” he whispered.

Booker’s hips shot upwards and his orgasm exploded forcefully from within.  “ _TOMMY!”_ he yelled and his body continued to shudder from his release.  Collapsing back against the mattress, he pulled Tom against him and wrapping his arms tightly around his slim body, he kissed him fervently and their hearts beat as one as their chests heaved in unison.  When he felt a hardness pressing against his side, he pulled away and gazed down at his lover.  “I love you too baby,” he murmured.  When Tom’s face flushed red, he grinned mischievously and his eyes flickered with desire.  “Now it’s your turn.” 

Moving down the bed, he straddled Tom’s thighs and gazed down at him lovingly.  The sight of a large erect cock, waiting to be touched made him moan and he longed to take it in his mouth and taste the juices that were already leaking from the tip.  Dark brown eyes, hooded by heavy lids stared up at him trustingly and he felt a shiver of delight run down his spine.  “Ready?” he asked softly.

A slight nod of Tom’s head indicated that he was.  Booker dropped to one hand and ducking his head, he gently held the base of Tom’s cock and pressed his lips against the engorged head.  Tom let out a soft cry and his hips lifted off the bed.  Booker licked his lips in readiness and taking a deep breath, he swallowed Tom whole.

Frantic fingers ripped at his hair as the tip of Tom’s cock slammed against the back of his throat.  “DENNIS!” Tom yelled and losing all control, he started to fuck his lover’s willing mouth.  Booker relaxed his throat and allowed him full access.  After several minutes, he started to hum, knowing that the exquisite feeling of the gentle vibration would push him towards release.

“OH FUCK!” Tom screamed and his thrusting became more frantic.  “Oh Dennis… oh Dennis… ahhh… ahhh… ahhh...  _DENNIS!”_

Warm semen shot down the back of Booker’s throat and he moaned in pleasure at the now familiar taste.  He continued to lap and suck at the softening cock as Tom’s body trembled beneath him.  Several minutes passed before he felt gentle hands guiding his head forward and soft lips pressed against his own and kissed him adoringly.  “Happy?” he murmured against Tom’s full pout.

“Hell yeah,” Tom sighed contentedly as his fingers gently pulled at the messy strands of Booker’s hair.  “I think that nagging voice of doubt has finally left the building.”

Dennis propped himself up on one elbow and his eyebrows knitted together as he scrutinized his lover’s face.  “And the plan?  You’re still happy to go ahead with that?”

Tom’s hand stilled and he began to chew on his lower lip.  “Do you really think we can convince the witnesses to testify?” he asked quietly.  “Because in all honesty, I think Watkins’ family has already bought their silence.”

Booker rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling.  “There has to be someone out there that has a conscience.”

Mirroring Booker’s position, Tom furrowed his brow in concentration.  He thought back to their time at Franklin High and the students they had met.  Without having access to police reports, he had no idea what students had been in the parking lot that fateful day and it would be a long and arduous task tracking down each and every one of them and asking what they saw.  He could hear Booker’s soft breathing next to him and his eyes grew heavy as a post orgasmic calmness enveloped his body.  But just as the tendrils of sleep pulled him towards unconsciousness, a distant memory floated into his mind and he bolted upright.  He knew _exactly_ who to target first and he was certain that they would cooperate.

Reaching out, he gently shook Booker’s shoulder.  “Hey Dennis, wake up!”

Dennis’ eyes fluttered open and pulling Tom down onto the mattress, he snuggled against his warm body.  “You want to go again Hanson?” he murmured against Tom’s neck.

Hanson struggled free from Booker’s hold and sat back up.  “Is that _all_ you think about?” he admonished in a teasing voice.

Roving his eyes over Tom’s naked body, Booker grinned impishly.  “I can’t help it,” he laughed softly.  “You’re so fucking sexy.”

His words had the desired effect and Tom’s face flushed a deep shade of red.  Sitting up, he smirked in delight.  “Jesus Hanson, it’s so easy to embarrass you.  I think the choir boy label really suits you.”

Tom’s lower lip pushed into an annoyed pout.  “I told you not to talk about that.”

Not wanting to spoil what had been an unforgettable afternoon, Booker pulled Tom into is arms.  “Sorry,” he murmured against his hair.  “Sometimes I forget to think before I speak.”

“Only sometimes?” Tom replied but his voice was tinged with humor and Dennis did not take offense.

“So, what’s so important that you had to wake me up?” Dennis asked.

Tom quickly gathered his thoughts before answering.  “Remember that kid that Watkins beat up because he was the unfortunate one to tell him that we were going to take over his drug trade?”

Dennis scratched lazily at his head.  “Yeah, Jarrod something.  What about—”

“That’s right!” Tom exclaimed excitedly.  “Jarrod Pilkington!  _He’s_ the one we should talk to because he’s got more of a grievance against Watkins than anyone.”

A slow smile spread over Booker’s face.  “You know Hanson, I think I was wrong when I told you that I was the brains of the operation and you were just a pretty face.”

Tom picked up his pillow and swatted Booker across the head.  Falling back against the mattress, they wrestled playfully before collapsing with laughter against the pillows.  Grinning at Booker, Tom struggled to catch his breath.  “Is it a plan?”

Dennis grinned back.  “It’s a plan.”  



	15. Plan of Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Not wanting to spoil what had been an unforgettable afternoon, Booker pulled Tom into is arms. “Sorry,” he murmured against his hair. “Sometimes I forget to think before I speak.”_
> 
> _“Only sometimes?” Tom replied but his voice was tinged with humor and Dennis did not take offense._
> 
> _“So, what’s so important that you had to wake me up?” Dennis asked._
> 
> _Tom quickly gathered his thoughts before answering. “Remember that kid that Watkins beat up because he was the unfortunate one to tell him that we were going to take over his drug trade?”_
> 
> _Dennis scratched lazily at his head. “Yeah, Jarrod something. What about—”_
> 
> _“That’s right!” Tom exclaimed excitedly. “Jarrod Pilkington! He’s the one we should talk to because he’s got more of a grievance against Watkins than anyone.”_
> 
> _A slow smile spread over Booker’s face. “You know Hanson, I think I was wrong when I told you that I was the brains of the operation and you were just a pretty face.”_
> 
> _Tom picked up his pillow and swatted Booker across the head. Falling back against the mattress, they wrestled playfully before collapsing with laughter against the pillows. Grinning at Booker, Tom struggled to catch his breath. “Is it a plan?”_
> 
> _Dennis grinned back. “It’s a plan.”_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887690/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Plan of Attack**

_Four days later_

Having spent a boring week at the Chapel, doing little more than filing paperwork and answering phones, both Booker and Hanson looked forward to the weekend so that they could finally start their investigation on the whereabouts of Jarrod Pilkington.  However, they had very little to go on because they were prevented from accessing any police records to do with their case.  All they knew for certain was that Jarrod attended Franklin High and that he was a senior.  Booker had attempted to convince Tom that it would be easier to just go to the school and look for Jarrod but Tom was adamant; they investigated on their own time and that meant after work or on weekends.

Now it was Saturday morning and the appetizing smell of bacon and eggs wafted through Booker’s apartment.  As he stood at the stove cooking breakfast, he silently observed Tom as he read the morning paper.  He never tired of watching his boyfriend, even when he was doing the most mundane of tasks.  In his eyes, Hanson was a work of art, the most beautiful man he had ever met.  Even after knowing him for over six months, he remained captivated by the delicacy of his features and since their union, not a day went by when he did not feel like the luckiest man alive.

Tom suddenly became aware of Booker’s scrutiny and turning his head, he gave his lover a warm smile. They had spent every evening together since they had devised their plan and every night they enjoyed each other’s bodies in a way that Tom had never experienced before. Booker was an amazingly patient and gentle lover and although they had not had penetrative sex, Tom knew that it was imminent. They could only continue as they were for so long before Dennis would want more and although the thought terrified him, he wanted to give himself to his lover completely. The nagging voice in his head that told him it was a sin no longer plagued him and he now felt comfortable with his bisexuality. He could not believe that something that felt so right could be wrong. Booker was his soul mate and he hoped that when he finally plucked up the courage to come out, his friends and family would accept it.

When Booker placed a heaped plate of bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes in front of him, Tom folded up the paper and tossed it onto the nearby coffee table.  He waited until Booker had taken a seat before picking up his knife and fork and digging in ravenously.

An amused smile twitched at Booker’s lips.  It amazed him how much Hanson could eat and yet he never gained a pound.  He put it down to nervous energy, Tom was always on the go and it was rare for him to just relax in front of the TV and do nothing.  However, that suited Booker just fine, he hated being idle too and for him, it was just another tick in the box that marked everything that with right about Hanson.

Once again, Tom became aware that Booker’s eyes were on him and his fork paused mid air.  “What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of food.

Dennis shook his head in wonder.  “How is it that you don’t choke when you’re shoveling food into your mouth like that?”

“I’m hungry,” Tom muttered.

“You’re always hungry,” Dennis pointed out with a smile.

Tom grinned.  “Yeah?  Well maybe it’s because we burn so many calories in the bedroom.”

Desire flickered in Booker’s dark eyes.  “Oh baby,” he murmured softly.  “Just wait until we get to the good stuff.  You’re gonna be famished.”

A soft blush tinged Tom’s cheeks and Dennis threw back his head and laughed.  “God you’re adorable,” he teased.

Desperate to change the conversation, Tom put down his knife and fork.  “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Dennis sighed.  “Well, we have the addresses of every Pilkington listed in the phone book so I guess we go door to door until we find Jarrod.”

Tom asked the question that was on both of their minds, “And if we _don’t_ find him?”

“I don’t know Tommy,” Booker replied quietly.  “Let’s cross that hurdle when we come to it.”

They finished their breakfast in relative silence and half an hour later, they were ready to leave.  Tom frowned as he watched Booker limp towards the door.  “Is it me or is your limp worse today?”

Booker grabbed his leather jacket off the hook by the door and pulled it on.  “You’re imagining it,” he replied gruffly.  “I’m fine.”

Hanson crossed the room and laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “If you’re struggling to walk why don’t you go back to using a cane?”

“Because that’s not who I am!” Dennis barked.  “So just leave it, okay?”

Startled by Booker’s harsh tone, Tom dropped his hand.  “Okay,” he murmured softly.  “But I was just trying to help.”

Feeling like a complete bastard, Booker wrapped his arms around Tom and hugged him close.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.  It’s just…” his voice trailed off and he gave Tom a tortured look.  “I used to be so active and now I struggle to walk across the room.  I hate it.”

Laying his head against Booker’s chest, Tom let out a heavy sigh.  “I know you do but you’ve got to be patient.”

Booker turned away and picked up his keys.  “I’ll feel a whole lot better when I know Robbie Watkins is behind bars.”

**

Three hours later and they were no further forward in their quest to find Jarrod Pilkington.  Tom watched Booker limp down the overgrown driveway of the latest house they had visited and he let out a sigh.  With each disappointment, Dennis had grown more silent and morose and he knew him well enough now to know that it was the calm before the storm.

When they reached the car, he laid a hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “Let’s call it a day and go do something fun.”

Booker shrugged away from Tom’s touch.  “I don’t want to do something _fun_ ,” he replied testily.  “I want to find Jarrod Pilkington and convince him to testify against Watkins.”

Tom realized the need to be gentle with his lover but he also needed to be honest.  “Look Dennis, you’re tired and your attitude is making people wary.  Even if we do find the right house, it’s doubtful anyone will speak to us because you’re coming on too strong.  If you’re not careful, you’ll scare Jarrod off and then we’re screwed.”

Sighing heavily, Dennis leaned against the hood of his Cadillac and surveyed the run down houses that lined the treeless street.  Every house they had visited had been the same, shabby and in need of a coat of paint, the yards littered with broken toys, empty oilcans and the occasional car up on blocks.  The residents were the unemployed or the minimum wage earners living in forgotten neighborhoods.  They were distrustful of strangers and especially of the police and if he continued to interrogate like an overzealous pit bull, he knew that all he would receive in return was silence.  

He returned his gaze to Tom and gave him a wan smile.  “You’re right.  I’m taking this whole thing too personally. Instead of behaving like a police officer, I’m acting like a crazy person.”

Stepping between Booker’s open legs, Tom pressed his body against him and circled his arms around his waist.  “Yeah, just a little bit,” he teased softly before his dark eyes clouded over.  “But it is personal.  We were shot and we’ve got every right to want to see justice served.  We’re not just cops Dennis, we’re human beings too.”

A shiver ran down Dennis’ spine and placing a hand behind Tom’s neck, he drew him close and kissed him tenderly.  “I _love_ —”

The sound of a speeding car cut off Dennis’ words and a battered sedan raced past them.  “FAGGOTS!” the teenage passengers yelled and several half-empty beer cans came hurtling towards them.

“Look out!” Tom yelled, but it was too late and a can of Budweiser slammed into the back of Booker’s head, spilling its contents down his neck.

“Jesus!” Booker yelled and his hand flew up to his head.  “What the hell was that?”

Tom stood staring at the car as it disappeared down the road, its occupants hanging precariously out of the windows, waving their arms in triumph and giving him the finger.  It was the first time he had experienced a homophobic attack and it left him feeling shaken.  Was this what his life had become?  Would he forever have to deal with taunts and disapproving glances because he chose to love another man?  He felt sick to his stomach; his life would never be the same again.

A gentle arm draped around his shoulder and turning around, he gazed into Booker’s dark eyes.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Dennis nodded.  “I’m fine.  Are _you_ okay?”

A momentary flicker of sadness passed over Tom’s face.  “Is it _always_ like this?”

“Not always,” Booker replied quietly.  “But sometimes.”  Tilting his head on one side, he studied Tom’s pale face.  “Can you deal with that?”

Tom lifted a trembling hand and ran it through his hair.  “I don’t know,” he muttered.  “Does it ever get easier?”

“No,” Booker replied flatly.  “It never does.”

The sadness in Booker’s eyes caused a physical pain in Tom’s heart.  His lover had been experiencing homophobic attacks for years and he now understood why he was often caustic and arrogant.  It was a defense mechanism he used to deflect prejudice and whether that prejudice was real or imagined no longer mattered, the behavior had become ingrained.    

“Let’s go home,” he murmured quietly.

This time Booker did not argue.  They drove in silence back to the apartment, neither man wanting to discuss what had happened.  Once inside, Booker disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.  He stripped out of his beer-stained clothes and stepped into the shower.  Salty tears mixed with the warm water cascading over his body and lowering his head, he allowed himself to grieve.  It had been a thoughtless teenage prank, but it did not make it any less painful.  Discrimination was not something you were born with, children learned it from their parents and they taught it to their children, who taught it to _their_ children and so the cycle continued.  It was something that he had learned to deal with but never accept and each attack hurt just as much as the last.

Not willing to indulge in self-pity any longer, he wiped his hands furiously over his tear stained face and exited the shower.  He quickly dried off and wrapping a towel around his waist, he walked into the bedroom.

Tom lay naked on the bed and as Dennis’ dark eyes traveled down the length of his body, heat flamed his face.  “I thought I could take you mind off things for a while,” he murmured shyly.

Ripping off his towel, Booker climbed onto the bed and gathered Tom into his arms.  “Oh baby,” he moaned against his neck.  “You’re so _fucking_ beautiful.”

Tom’s blush deepened at the compliment and he bit down on his lip as light fingers traveled down his torso, stopping just above his pubic hair before traveling back up and tweaking his nipple.

“Tell me what you want,” Booker moaned against his throat, his mouth nipping and sucking at the taut skin.  “I wanna make you scream.”

When Tom did not answer, he lifted his head and gazed into his lover’s flushed face.  “Tommy?”

Tom immediately began to chew nervously on his lower lip.  “I want… I want to take things further.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in surprise and his heart began to race.  “Meaning?” 

The dark eyes staring back at him filled with embarrassment and he felt a pang of pure love bursting from his heart.  A small, tender smile played over his lips as he gazed down at his lover.  “Do you want me to use my finger?” he asked gently.

Tom remained silent but his head quickly moved up and down in assent.  Dennis could barely contain the excitement he felt welling up inside him but his face remained calm.  “Okay baby, just let me get a few things.”

Watching silently as Dennis rummaged through his bedside drawer, Tom could not stop his body from trembling.  They were about to enter into a new phase of their relationship, a more intimate phase and he would experience something that he had never experienced before.  A feeling of panic rose in his chest.  Would it be painful?  Would it be embarrassing?  Suddenly, a bombardment of fear and doubt flooded into his mind.  He was terrified of making a fool of himself.

Booker placed a tube of lubrication on the bedside table before continuing his search through the cluttered drawer.  His fingers eventually found the cassette tape he had been searching for and he inserted it into the boombox next his bed.   The beautiful instrumental introduction of Led Zeppelin’s “The Rain Song” floated out from the speakers and he turned and smiled at his lover.  But his smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the terror in Tom’s eyes.  He managed to disguise his disappointment and reaching out, he cupped Tom’s pale face in the palm of his hand.  “It’s okay Tommy, maybe another time.  It’s been a stressful day.”

Even though Dennis had given him an _out_ , Tom refused to let his anxiety rule his heart.  He _wanted_ to take their relationship to the next level and if he did not do it now, when would he do it?  He pushed away all the nagging doubts and taking in a slow, deep, calming breath, he managed a smile.  “No, I want to.”

As he studied Tom’s face, Booker was not completely convinced but he wanted it so badly that he pushed his own nagging doubts aside.  “Okay baby,” he murmured.  “But if at any time you want to stop, we’ll stop.”

Tom nodded and he watched as his lover picked up the lubrication and positioned himself between his open legs.  “Bend your knees up,” Booker instructed and he did as he was asked.  He flinched slightly when a light finger caressed his perineum, but after several minutes, he found the gentle circular motion soothing and he felt his body starting to relax.  Gradually the finger moved towards his opening and he sucked in his breath as the tip passed over his anus.  Embarrassment flooded over him and he screwed his eyes closed, but upon hearing Dennis’ concerned voice, he opened them again and biting down on his lip, he gazed up at his lover. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Booker asked gently.

He shook his head.  “No, keep going.”  This time he kept his eyes locked on the relaxed face above him as Booker’s finger continued its exploration over his puckered hole.  

Another minute passed before Booker’s hand paused and he picked up the lubrication.  Tom held his breath and watched with wide eyes as he squirted out a large dollop and coated his finger.  Once satisfied, Booker rubbed a second dollop over Tom’s hole before moving forward and kissing him tenderly.  “Ready?” he asked softly.

When Tom nodded his assent, he sat back up and placed his finger against Tom’s entrance.  “Breathe in,” he instructed quietly.  Tom took a deep, jagged breath and waited.  “Now breathe out,” Booker murmured and when Tom exhaled, he gently pushed the tip of his finger inside.  “And again,” he encouraged and inch by inch, he inserted his finger.  He paused for a moment before carefully moving his finger in a slow, circular motion and with each rotation, he gently pushed through the tight rings of muscle.  Once inside, he stopped and gave his lover a smile.  “Okay?” he asked.

Although Tom’s brow was deeply furrowed, he managed to return the smile.  “Yeah, it feels… weird.”

The soft sound of laughter escaped from Booker’s lips.  “Oh baby,” he whispered.  “Soon… it’s gonna feel amazing.  Tell me when you feel it.”

When Dennis’ finger moved inside him, Tom struggled to keep his body relaxed.  The sensation was unlike anything he had ever felt before.  Seconds passed and he wondered what it was he was supposed to feel and then without warning, a bolt of electricity flooded through his body as Dennis found his prostate and gently massaged it.

“Oh God!” he cried out in surprise.  “Oh Jesus!”

A broad grin passed over Dennis’ lips.  “That’s it baby, just lie back and enjoy it.”

Tom’s hands grasped at the crumpled sheet beneath him and his body squirmed.  “Oh God Dennis… I never thought… oh God!”  His cock swelled from the internal stimulation.  “Oh Dennis!  Touch me… touch me… touch me!” he cried.

Booker’s eyes widened in delight and he trailed a finger over Tom’s erection.  “Do you like that baby?”

“Yes… yes… yes,” Tom panted excitedly as his hips thrust off the mattress.  “Please!  Oh Dennis please!  I need to come… I _need_ to come!”

Booker’s own erect cock stood proud against his stomach and he ached to feel Tom’s fingers wrapped around him.  “Touch me baby,” he moaned as he began to jerk Tom off whilst still massaging his gland.  “We’ll come together.”

“Fuck yeah,” Tom groaned and reaching out, he took Dennis to hand.  Soft moaning rent the air, competing with Robert Plant’s voice, which echoed hauntingly from the speakers.  “I’m close… I’m close…” Tom panted breathlessly.  “Oh Dennis… oh Dennis… _AHHH!”_

Warm semen coated Booker’s fingers and when Tom’s hand stilled, he urged him on.  “Don’t stop!” he cried, his need to find his own release overwhelming every nerve in his body.  When Tom’s hand once again began to pump over his cock, he closed his eyes and threw back his head.  “Yes… yes… yes… oh baby… oh baby… harder… harder… TOMM _EEE!”_

His orgasm hit hard and fast and his body shuddered.  Opening his eyes, he carefully withdrew his finger before collapsing on top of his lover.  They sought out each other’s mouths and kissed passionately as a post climactic calm washed over their bodies.  Tom eventually broke the kiss and gazing deep into his lover’s black eyes, he grinned impishly.  “Hell, if I knew about _that_ , I would have become bi a long time ago.”

Booker rolled onto the mattress and wrapping his arms around Tom’s body, he pulled him close and nuzzled against his hair.  “So it was good?” he asked softly.

Tom rolled over so that they were facing each other.  “It was fucking amazing,” he murmured as his fingers lightly played with the hair at the nape of Booker’s neck.  “How can something that feels so good be wrong?”

Booker pressed his lips against Tom’s forehead and kissed him softly.  “It _isn’t_ wrong,” he muttered.  “It’s only narrow minded, bigoted people who think it is.”

Sighing contentedly, Tom closed his eyes and snuggled against Booker’s warm body.  “Fuck ‘em,” he murmured drowsily.

Although Dennis shared Tom’s sentiment, he remained silent.  He listened to the slow rhythm of Tom’s breathing as he fell asleep in his arms.  But sleep did not come as easily to him.  The sting of the teenager’s hurtful words still pained him and he knew it would not be the last time he heard such vitriolic hatred spewed forth from another human being’s lips.  He knew he should shrug it off, but he could not forgive that easily.  But what was worse was that he had brought Hanson into his world and he knew the pain he felt would now be twofold.  



	16. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Booker’s own erect cock stood proud against his stomach and he ached to feel Tom’s fingers wrapped around him. “Touch me baby,” he moaned as he began to jerk Tom off whilst still massaging his gland. “We’ll come together.”_
> 
> _“Fuck yeah,” Tom groaned and reaching out, he took Dennis to hand. Soft moaning rent the air, competing with Robert Plant’s voice, which echoed hauntingly from the speakers. “I’m close… I’m close…” Tom panted breathlessly. “Oh Dennis… oh Dennis… AHHH!”_
> 
> _Warm semen coated Booker’s fingers and when Tom’s hand stilled, he urged him on. “Don’t stop!” he cried, his need to find his own release overwhelming every nerve in his body. When Tom’s hand once again began to pump over his cock, he closed his eyes and threw back his head. “Yes… yes… yes… oh baby… oh baby… harder… harder… TOMMEEE!”_
> 
> _His orgasm hit hard and fast and his body shuddered. Opening his eyes, he carefully withdrew his finger before collapsing on top of his lover. They sought out each other’s mouths and kissed passionately as a post climatic calm washed over their bodies. Tom eventually broke the kiss and gazing deep into his lover’s black eyes, he grinned impishly. “Hell, if I knew about that, I would have become bi a long time ago.”_
> 
> _Booker rolled onto the mattress and wrapping his arms around Tom’s body, he pulled him close and nuzzled against his hair. “So it was good?” he asked softly._
> 
> _Tom rolled over so that they were facing each other. “It was fucking amazing,” he murmured as his fingers lightly played with the hair at the nape of Booker’s neck. “How can something that feels so good be wrong?”_
> 
> _Booker pressed his lips against Tom’s forehead and kissed him softly. “It isn’t wrong,” he muttered. “It’s only narrow minded, bigoted people who think it is.”_
> 
> _Sighing contentedly, Tom closed his eyes and snuggled against Booker’s warm body. “Fuck ‘em,” he murmured drowsily._
> 
> _Although Dennis shared Tom’s sentiment, he remained silent. He listened to the slow rhythm of Tom’s breathing as he fell asleep in his arms. But sleep did not come as easily to him. The sting of the teenager’s hurtful words still pained him and he knew it would not be the last time he heard such vitriolic hatred spewed forth from another human being’s lips. He knew he should shrug it off, but he could not forgive that easily. But what was worse was that he had brought Hanson into his world and he knew the pain he felt would now be twofold._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887610/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Betrayal**  

Sunday morning found Booker and Hanson back on the streets in search of Jarrod Pilkington.  An hour in and they had already visited three houses, the first two, no one acknowledged their incessant knocking and the third tenant advised them that they had the wrong house.  Walking up the overgrown driveway of the fourth house, Tom saw the curtain twitch and he nudged Booker.  “Someone’s home,” he muttered in a low voice.  

Dennis limped up the steps of the front porch and rang the bell.  A jarring musical rendition of _Joy to the World_ pierced the still morning air.  Booker and Hanson raised their eyebrows in unison and exchanged a look.  It was mid January, Christmas was a distant memory and they both wondered if the Pilkingtons of 1832 Sparrow Road kept the tune all year round.  Maybe they needed a little joy in their world.

Tapping his foot impatiently, Booker pressed the doorbell for a second time but no one answered.  Opening up the battered screen, he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door.  “Police!  Open up!”

Tom glanced over at his lover.  “Jesus Booker,” he muttered.  “I thought we agreed to be calm and nonthreatening.

When footsteps sounded from inside the house, Booker grinned at Tom.  “Sometimes you’ve got to trust your instincts.”

The door opened a crack and Jarrod Pilkington’s scared face peeked out.  “What do you want?”

Afraid that Booker might frighten the boy further by being too pushy, Tom stepped purposely in front of him and held out his badge.  “Do you remember us Jarrod?” he asked pleasantly.

The boy peered at the badge, his expression sullen.  “You’re those two undercover cops that got shot,” he muttered.

Dennis could not stay silent any longer.  Pushing past Hanson, he managed to force a smile.  “That’s right and we want to talk to you about that.”

Pilkington junior appeared to think long and hard about the request before answering.  “Okay,” he whispered.  “But not here.  Too many eyes and ears if you know what I mean.”

“Okay,” Booker replied calmly.  “If not here then where?”

Jarrod chewed at his thumbnail.  “Abandoned house on Elm.  You can’t miss it, it’s yellow and there’s graffiti all over it.  Meet me in the kitchen in an hour.”

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Tom replied.  “If we’re going to meet up we do it—”

“We’ll be there,” Booker interjected and grabbing hold of Tom’s arm, he pulled him down the steps and across the parched lawn.  

When they reached the car, Hanson pulled away from Booker’s grasp and gave him an angry look.  “Are you fucking crazy?  In what part of basic training did they tell you to follow someone into an obvious trap?”

Booker scowled back at Tom.  “We don’t know that it’s a trap.  The kid’s scared, maybe he really does just want to talk somewhere private.”

“Or maybe he’s on the phone to Watkins’ family and they’re setting up an ambush,” Tom shot back angrily.

Booker’s impulsive nature clouded his judgment.  He did not want to pass up the opportunity to convince Jarrod to do the right thing and testify about Watkins’ character.  They needed the judge to see the kind of person Robbie really was and that his decision to pull out a gun that day was premeditated.  This might be their only chance to talk to Jarrod and he was damned if he would pass up the opportunity on the off chance that Pilkington was really in cahoots with Watkins. 

Hobbling over to the driver’s door, he gave Hanson a scornful look.  “If you don’t want to come, fine.  Go home, I’ll do this on my own.”

Tom felt caught between a rock and a hard place.  Every fiber of his being screamed that it was a trap but his conscience would not allow him to send Booker off alone.  They were partners, in every sense of the word and they needed to stick together.

Pulling open the passenger door, he let out a sigh.  “Okay, I’ll come, but we treat the situation like it _is_ a trap.  We go in with our guns drawn, deal?”

Booker grinned.  “Deal.”

**

An hour later, Booker’s Cadillac pulled up outside the rundown house that Jarrod had described.  He switched off the ignition and turned to face Tom.  “Look, I know you think this is a stupid idea but it’s the only chance we’ve got.”

Tom unbuckled his seat belt and removed his gun from its holster.  “I do think it’s stupid.  Stupid and reckless but I can’t let you go in there alone so I guess I have no choice.”

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Booker ruffled Tom’s hair.  “Relax Tommy, we’re trained professionals.  We can spot an ambush a mile away.  We’ll be fine.”

Tom opened his door and climbed out.  “Famous last fucking words,” he muttered under his breath before slamming the door closed.

They approach the house warily, their guns held low so that they were not obvious to any onlookers.  The street was deserted and most of the houses appeared uninhabited, their once shiny windows now boarded up.  Tom nodded for Booker to cover him and lifting his gun, he carefully pushed open the front door.

The house was dark, damp and smelled of mold.  Faded wallpaper hung in strips from the walls, the once vibrant colors now a distant memory.  He motioned for Booker to enter and together they crept down the long passageway, the threadbare blue carpet muffling their footsteps.  At the end of the hallway, he could see the peeling linoleum floor of the kitchen and signaling Booker with a raised hand, he stopped several feet from the open door.  “Jarrod!” he called out.

“In here,” Jarrod replied.

“We’re coming in,” Tom responded in a loud voice, “and I'm warning you, we’re armed.”

Motioning for Booker to follow him, together they entered the large kitchen.  His head immediately snapped left and right, checking for hiding places.  He could see an open door at the far end of the room that he assumed led down into the basement.  Jarrod sat on the counter top wearing a large smile.  Hopping down from the ledge, he shook his head back and forth.  “Geez, I never thought you’d be this dumb,” he mocked.

Tom’s heart leaped into his throat and he tightened the grip on his gun.  “We’re armed,” he replied in a steady voice.  “What do you think you can do?”

Before Jarrod could answer, Tom heard a yell from behind and spinning around he saw a large man with his arm around Booker’s neck, gripping him in a chokehold.  Booker’s eyes bulged and his face was turning purple.  His gun now lay useless on the floor and both his hands frantically attempted to alleviate the tension around his neck as he made distressed gurgling noises in an attempt to breathe.

“STOP!” Tom yelled and training his gun on the two struggling men, he pulled out his badge.  “Police!  Let the officer go.”

The man grinned manically, revealing several missing teeth and lifting his free hand, he placed the barrel of a gun against Booker’s head.  “Or what?” he taunted in a slow drawl.  “You think you can shoot me without hurting your friend?”

Hanson felt himself starting to panic and his gun trembled in his hand.  “You’re killing him!” he cried out.  “Let him go, you’re killing him!”

“Give your gun to the boy and I’ll let your friend go,” the man instructed slowly.  “You have three seconds… one… two...  thr—”

Tom dropped his gun to the floor and Jarrod leaped nimbly forward and picked it up.  He pointed it at Hanson and smiled.  “You really are dumb.”

Ignoring the comment, Hanson focused his attention on Booker.  The man had loosened his hold but Dennis was still struggling to catch his breath and his face was beet red.  “Please!” he implored.  “Help him!”

The man hesitated for a moment before releasing his hold.  Booker fell to the floor, clutching at his throat as he struggled to draw breath.  Tom hurried forward so he could help his lover but cold metal pressed against the back of his head and he immediately stopped in his tracks.  

“Nuh uh,” Jarrod crooned softly and moving forward, he pressed the gun against Hanson’s temple.  “Stay right where you are.”

Fear gripped Tom’s heart and he instinctively screwed his eyes closed as he waited to die.  He could still hear Booker’s strangled cries and he silently prayed to a God that he had not prayed to for years, begging with the unseen entity to spare his lover’s life.  Seconds ticked by and he heard an amused laugh.  “Don’t worry pretty boy, you’re not gonna die… _yet_.”

Tom opened his eyes and saw that his lover was now able to breathe but he looked weak and disorientated.  The man stepped forward and raising his gun, he pointed it at Booker’s head before addressing Hanson.  “You’re gonna walk nice and slowly down into the basement,” he instructed, “and if you do anything stupid, your friend’s brains are gonna be decorating the walls.  Capiche?”

As he could see no way out of their situation, Tom nodded.  He turned and slowly walked towards the open doorway.  In front of him, the basement loomed black and he could not see the bottom of the stairs.  He paused at the top and turned back around.  “What about my friend?” he asked quietly.

The man grinned his toothless grin.  “Don’t worry, he’ll be joining you _very_ soon.”

With a heavy heart, Tom descended the rickety wooden steps.  He stumbled several times but managed to stop himself from pitching head first into the inky darkness.  When he reached the bottom, he yelled out in a strained voice.  “Now send my friend down!”

A loud laugh echoed from above.  “As you wish,” the man snorted.  “Catch!” and to Tom’s dismay, he pushed Booker down the stairs.

“NOOO!” Hanson cried and he watched in horror as Booker’s body crashed down towards him before coming to rest at the bottom of the steps.  Rushing forward, he fell to his knees beside his friend and even in the darkness, he could see that he was unconscious.  “YOU BASTARD!” he screamed.  “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”

In the pale light above, the man smirked.  “Because I could.  Nighty night,” and the door slammed closed, plunging the basement into blackness.

“FUCK!” Tom yelled in frustration.  “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, _FUCK!”_   The basement mocked him with its silence.  Sitting down on the floor, he carefully explored Dennis’ head and his fingers came away sticky with blood.  Leaning forward, he checked that his lover was still breathing and he sighed in relief when he felt warm breath against his face.  He had no idea if Dennis had suffered any broken bones but he made the decision not to move him, just in case.  He waited several minutes until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness before standing up and carefully stumbling around the room with his hands held out in front of him.  The basement was large, approximately 1600 square feet and the air smelled damp.  During his exploration, he discovered a water heater and furnace but little else except for a few soggy cardboard boxes that appeared to contain articles of clothing.   Once he had traversed the room and found nothing that could aid them in their escape, he checked on Booker but found his condition unchanged.  Looking up at the chink of light that shone from beneath the basement door, he carefully ascended the stairs.  Several steps were now completely missing, dislodged by the weight of Dennis’ body hurtling down them.  He missed his footing several times and his heart leaped into his throat as he clutched frantically at the unstable handrail to stop himself from falling.  When he reached the top, he optimistically turned the doorknob but the door did not budge.  He threw his shoulder against it several times but it remained stubbornly closed, barely moving under the impact of his meager weight.  

Sighing resignedly, he carefully descended the stairs and sitting on the cold cement floor, he gently cradled Booker’s head in his lap.  His cold fingers tenderly caressed his lover’s bloody face as he stared despondently out into the darkness.  “We’re screwed Dennis,” he muttered into the deafening silence.  “This time we’re really screwed.”  



	17. Desperate Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: As he could see no way out of their situation, Tom nodded. He turned and slowly walked towards the open doorway. In front of him, the basement loomed black and he could not see the bottom of the stairs. He paused at the top and turned back around. “What about my friend?” he asked quietly._
> 
> _The man grinned his toothless grin. “Don’t worry, he’ll be joining you very soon.”_
> 
> _With a heavy heart, Tom descended the rickety wooden steps. He stumbled several times but managed to stop himself from pitching head first into the inky darkness. When he reached the bottom, he yelled out in a strained voice. “Now send my friend down!”_
> 
> _A loud laugh echoed from above. “As you wish,” the man snorted. “Catch!” and to Tom’s dismay, he pushed Booker down the stairs._
> 
> _“NOOO!” Hanson cried and he watched in horror as Booker’s body crashed down towards him before coming to rest at the bottom of the steps. Rushing forward, he fell to his knees beside his friend and even in the darkness, he could see that he was unconscious. “YOU BASTARD!” he screamed. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”_
> 
> _In the pale light above, the man smirked. “Because I could. Nighty night,” and the door slammed closed, plunging the basement into blackness._
> 
> _“FUCK!” Tom yelled in frustration. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” The basement mocked him with its silence. Sitting down on the floor, he carefully explored Dennis’ head and his fingers came away sticky with blood. Leaning forward, he checked that his lover was still breathing and he sighed in relief when he felt warm breath against his face. He had no idea if Dennis had suffered any broken bones but he made the decision not to move him, just in case. He waited several minutes until his eyes had adjusted to the darkness before standing up and carefully stumbling around the room with his hands held out in front of him. The basement was large, approximately 1600 square feet and the air smelled damp. During his exploration, he discovered a water heater and furnace but little else except for a few soggy cardboard boxes that appeared to contain articles of clothing. Once he had traversed the room and found nothing that could aid them in their escape, he checked on Booker but found his condition unchanged. Looking up at the chink of light that shone from beneath the basement door, he carefully ascended the stairs. Several steps were now completely missing, dislodged by the weight of Dennis’ body hurtling down them. He missed his footing several times and his heart leaped into his throat as he clutched frantically at the unstable handrail to stop himself from falling. When he reached the top, he optimistically turned the doorknob but the door did not budge. He threw his shoulder against it several times but it remained stubbornly closed, barely moving under the impact of his meager weight._
> 
> _Sighing resignedly, he carefully descended the stairs and sitting on the cold cement floor, he gently cradled Booker’s head in his lap. His cold fingers tenderly caressed his lover’s bloody face as he stared despondently out into the darkness. “We’re screwed Dennis,” he muttered into the deafening silence. “This time we’re really screwed.”_

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887410/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Desperate Times**  

Tom awoke from a light doze and he groaned as the weight of Booker's head pressed against his full bladder.  He carefully placed his hands under the matted dark hair and shuffling sideways, he lay Booker down so that his head rested on top of several moth eaten hoodies that he had liberated from one of the cardboard boxes.  Leaning forward, he checked on his lover’s condition.  The young officer remained unresponsive, but his breathing was steady and his pulse strong.  Once satisfied that his condition had not deteriorated, Tom stood up and stretched his cramp legs.  He was thirsty and hungry but most of all, he needed to urinate.  He walked over to the far corner of the basement, unzipped his jeans and sighed contentedly as he emptied his bladder onto the cement floor.  Zipping back up, he made another futile search of the room before returning to the bottom of the stairs.  He had tried numerous times to break down the door during the nine hours they had spent in the basement, but all his efforts had produced was a sore shoulder.  Now, as he looked upwards, he saw that the dim light that had glimmered from beneath the basement door had vanished, signaling nightfall.   A cold dampness hung in the air and he shivered.   He debated climbing the steps to try once again but he was tired and his shoulder throbbed painfully.  It was less than two weeks since his dislocation and he wondered if he had caused himself more damage.  But he quickly pushed the thought aside, he had to keep trying otherwise they would die in the bowels of the empty house.

He turned away and sat down on the hard cement floor.  His gaze dropped to Booker’s face and he gasped when he saw two confused eyes staring up at him.  “Dennis!” he exclaimed softly and reaching out, he caressed his lover’s bloodied face.  “Thank God.  Are you in pain?”

Booker’s tongue flicked out from between his lips.  “Thirsty,” he muttered.

Tom suddenly remembered the water heater and he scrambled to his feet.  “Hang on,” he murmured excitedly and hurrying over to the tank, he squatted down and opened up the drain valve.  But his excitement was short lived; the tank was dry.  “Damn it!” he cried and he slammed his hand against the cistern in frustration.

Standing up, he walked back to Booker and dropping to his knees, he reached out and stroked his face.  “I’m sorry Dennis,” he whispered.  “There’s no water.”

Dennis’ eyes fluttered closed.  “Tired,” he mumbled.

Fear gripped Tom’s heart and laying a hand on Booker’s shoulder, he gave it a gentle shake.  “No, no, no, you have to stay awake.  Open your eyes Dennis.  Come on, open your eyes.”  However, no matter how hard he tried to wake him, Booker remained unresponsive.  Tears pricked at Tom’s eyes and slowly slid down his face.  He was terrified that Dennis was slipping into a coma from the head injury he had received when he fell down the stairs.  “Dennis please wake up!” he sobbed as he cradled Booker’s head in his arms.  “ _Please!”_

But Booker’s eyes remained closed and as the hours ticked slowly by, Tom eventually fell into an exhausted sleep.

**

_Sunday 12.30 p.m._

Doug rapped his knuckles against Tom’s apartment door.  “Hanson!” he called out, “I know you’re in there, your car’s parked right outside.”  When he received no answer, he tried again.  “C’mon Hanson, open up.  I’ve got two tickets to the game and it starts in an hour.”

The only reply he received was a deafening silence.  Turning away, he started to walk towards the stairs when a door from across the hallway opened and the wrinkled face of an old woman peered out from the narrow crack of the chained door.  “Are you looking for that nice young police officer?” she asked hesitantly.

Penhall turned and walked back.  “Yes ma’am,” he replied pleasantly and pulling out his badge, he placed it close to the door.  “I’m Officer Penhall and I work with Officer Hanson.  Have you seen him?”

The woman’s head nodded up and down.  “He left with a dark haired man on Friday night.  I haven’t seen him since.”

A small frown furrowed Doug’s brow.  “This man, was he wearing a black leather jacket.”

Once again, the woman’s head bobbled back and forth.  “That’s right and a handsome boy he was too.  Just like Officer Hanson.”

“Booker,” Penhall muttered under his breath and after thanking the elderly woman for her help, he hurried from the building.

**

_Monday 8 a.m._

“I’m telling you Coach, Booker’s behind this!  He’s forced Tom to go with him somewhere and I bet you it’s got something to do with the Robbie Watkins’ case!”

Fuller leaned back in his chair and gave Doug a measured look.  “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions Penhall.  The only piece of evidence you have is that Hanson left with someone who looks like Booker and that evidence is hearsay.”

Doug paced back and forth across the small room.  “I know it in my _gut_ Coach.  We both know Tommy, he does everything by the book.  Booker’s a rebel, he bucks the system every chance he gets.  He’s behind Hanson’s disappearance, I just know it.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Fuller let out a sigh.  “They’re only thirty minutes late.  Let’s give it another hour before we start to panic.”

Although he knew his captain was right, Penhall could not resist a parting shot before he walked out the door, “You should have transferred that sonofabitch when you had the chance.”

**

Tom’s eyes fluttered open and he let out a moan as he stretched out the crick in his neck.  He checked his watch and he was surprised to see that he had slept through the night.  His eyes immediately sought out Booker’s face and he was shocked to see how pale it was.  Shifting into a kneeling position, he rested Booker’s head on the makeshift pillow and checked his vitals.  His breathing was normal but his pulse was rapid.  Staggering to his feet, he mounted the broken wooden stairs and stared at the barrier that blocked their escape.  His fingers traveled over the rusty hinges of the door and for the hundredth time, he wished for a tool, any tool, so he could at least attempt to remove the hinge pins.  However, wishing was pointless and so once again, he became proactive.  He began slamming his weight against the heavy door, his shoulder throbbing painfully at every strike, but after ten minutes, he collapsed on the top step, tired and disheartened.  He knew he had to accept defeat and that no matter how many times he tried to break it down, the door was impenetrable.  

Climbing slowly down the steps, he lay down on the floor and pulling Booker into his arms, he snuggled protectively against him.  His empty stomach growled noisily and he licked at his parched lips.  Gazing despondently out into the dimness, he ran a gentle hand over Booker’s body.  He felt so alone and he was in need of contact, _any_ contact.  As his fingers traveled over Booker’s hip, he felt something hard protruding from the pocket of his jeans.  His hand paused and sitting up, he slipped his fingers inside and pulled out the mystery object. 

“Yes!” he shouted excitedly and he grinned into the darkness like a deranged lunatic.  Scrambling to his feet, he quickly ascended the stairs and squatting down on the top step, he held the Swiss Army Knife up to the light that shined through the narrow crack under the door.  With trembling fingers, he slowly pulled out each tool and his smile widened when he discovered both a screwdriver and a small pair of pliers along with various sized knives and other utensils.  He quickly selected one of the knives and sitting down, he started to scrape away at the rust that had accumulated on the door’s lower hinge.  It took him ten minutes before he was satisfied and after blowing away the final remnants of fine dust, he studied the hinge pin.  He quickly selected a larger knife and placing the blade underneath the head of the pin, he pressed against it and pushed upwards.  At first, nothing happened but as he continued to apply pressure, the pin gradually moved up an eighth of an inch and stopped.  It was not much, but it was a start.  He quickly repositioned the blade, tried again and this time the pin yielded a quarter of an inch.  It was a slow, laborious task, but little by little, he managed to move the pin upwards until he had about a quarter of it exposed.  Pressing the blade back into position within the army knife, he pulled out the pliers.  He wiped his hands on his jeans before gripping the head of the pin with the small tool.  Holding on with both hands, he heaved with all his might and he was rewarded when the pin moved a little further out of the knuckle.  Looking up, he sighed when it registered that once he finally got the pin free, he still had two more hinges to tackle.  But he was not about to give up, at least now he had a chance of escape and he would persevere until they were free. 

**

_Monday 1.30 p.m._

Fuller and Penhall stood outside Booker’s apartment and watched as the building superintendent used his key to unlock the door.  Once open, the two men thanked him and entered the apartment.  Fuller closed the door and flicked the light switch.  The apartment was reasonably tidy apart from the breakfast dishes that sat piled in the sink.  Doug mentally counted the plates and utensils and a small frown creased his brow.  He wondered who had spent the night with Booker.  Was he seeing someone?  A man?  A woman?  And if so, where had Tom spent Friday and Saturday night?  It was a puzzling mystery and Doug was becoming more and more anxious by the minute.

His commanding officer’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned around.  “Sorry Coach?”

Adam Fuller held up an open phone book.  “Looks like Booker’s searching for someone,” he repeated.

“Do you think it has to do with the Watkins’ case?” Penhall asked as he crossed the room to stand next to his captain.

“Maybe,” Fuller replied slowly.  “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  We’ll run the names from the open phone book and see if any of them match with potential witnesses.  Call Ioki and Hoffs and get them to talk to Booker’s neighbors, maybe somebody knows something.”

As Doug headed for the door, he glanced at his watch.  Hanson had not been home for over two days and that now qualified him as a missing person.

**

_Monday 1.45 p.m._

With a final grunt, Tom pulled the pin from the second hinge and threw it over the handrail.  His stiff fingers ached painfully and a large blister had formed on the ball of his thumb.  In need of a rest, he carefully descended the stairs and sat down next to Booker’s prone body.  Taking care not to hurt him, he carefully lifted his head and placed it in his lap.  “We’re almost there Dennis,” he whispered as his cramped fingers gently stroked his lover’s face.  “I just need to rest for a minute.”

Closing his eyes, he relaxed his tense muscles.  He was so close to releasing them from their prison but he knew the cramping in his fingers would hinder the job and he needed to be patient.  He would rest for a couple of hours and start again and if the final pin did not give him any trouble, they would be out by nightfall.

A state of calmness took over his body and he let out a weary sigh.  Once he was free, he would find help for Booker and everything would be all right.  Booker was strong, he had survived the shooting and he would survive this.  It was just a little bump to the head he told himself and after a night in hospital, he would be fine.

**

_Monday 2.30 p.m._

Tom lay slumped against the wall, his mind now in a deep state of NREM sleep.  He did not feel the convulsions that shook Booker’s body and when he finally awoke, he was blissfully unaware of the damage that was occurring inside his lover’s brain.  



	18. Dire Straits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Monday 1.45 p.m._
> 
> _With a final grunt, Tom pulled the pin from the second hinge and threw it over the handrail. His stiff fingers ached painfully and a large blister had formed on the ball of his thumb. In need of a rest, he carefully descended the stairs and sat down next to Booker’s prone body. Taking care not to hurt him, he carefully lifted his head and placed it in his lap. “We’re almost there Dennis,” he whispered as his cramped fingers gently stroked his lover’s face. “I just need to rest for a minute.”_
> 
> _Closing his eyes, he relaxed his tense muscles. He was so close to releasing them from their prison but he knew the cramping in his fingers would hinder the job and he needed to be patient. He would rest for a couple of hours and start again and if the final pin did not give him any trouble, they would be out by nightfall._
> 
> _A state of calmness took over his body and he let out a weary sigh. Once he was free, he would find help for Booker and everything would be all right. Booker was strong, he had survived the shooting and he would survive this. It was just a little bump to the head he told himself and after a night in hospital, he would be fine._
> 
> _**_
> 
> _Monday 2.30 p.m._
> 
> _Tom lay slumped against the wall, his mind now in a deep state of NREM sleep. He did not feel the convulsions that shook Booker’s body and when he finally awoke, he was blissfully unaware of the damage that was occurring inside his lover’s brain._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887250/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Dire Straits**

_Monday 6.18 p.m._

It had taken Fuller two hours to get the Watkins’ case records released to him and another hour to crosscheck the names of the witnesses against the names and addresses listed on the two open pages in the phone book found in Booker’s apartment.  But his efforts had proven fruitless; there was no match.

“Damn it!” he yelled in frustration.  “When I find Hanson and Booker they’ll be confined to desk duty for a year!  How dare they disobey my orders and go investigating on their own.”

Doug’s expression became morose.  “ _If_ we find them,” he muttered, “and anyway, we don’t even know if this is linked to the Robbie Watkins’ case.  Booker might have been looking up a friend’s number in the phone book.”

“Oh trust me, it’s the Watkins’ case,” Fuller stated angrily.  “What else could it be?” Those two have been acting strange ever since—”

“Captain!” Judy called out from across the busy room.  “I think I’ve got something.”

Whilst Penhall and Fuller had been busily cross-referencing the names and addresses against the list of witnesses, Hoffs and Ioki had been placing calls to the residences in the open phone book.  However, it had proved to be a frustratingly slow business.  Those who answered immediately slammed down the phone when they knew it was the police.  It was a common problem in the lower socioeconomic areas surrounding the city.  The police were the enemy, not to be trusted and those that had already spoken to Dennis and Tom were feeling intimidated.  No one wanted to get a reputation as a snitch.

“What is it Hoffs?” Fuller asked as he hurried over to her desk with Penhall following close behind.

Judy pointed to an address written on her notepad.  “So far, this is the _only_ person who has spoken to me.  She told me that Tom and Dennis visited her on Saturday looking for a Jarrod Pilkington.”

Penhall asked the obvious question, “Who’s Jarrod Pilkington?”

Hoffs’ eyes danced with excitement.  “He’s a senior at Franklin High.  I ran the name through the police database and guess what?  He’s got priors and every single one has been in association with Robbie Watkins… they’re related.”

“Jackpot!” Penhall yelled.  “Pilkington is one of the names in the phone book!  It’s too much of a coincidence Cap’n, Jarrod _must_ know something about Tom’s disappearance.”

Fuller’s mouth set into a hard line.  “Go talk to him.”

**

 _Monday 6.20 p.m._

“FUCK!” Tom yelled and in a fit of anger, he threw the army knife down the stairs.  “Why won’t you come out you sonofabitch!”

Collapsing on the top step, he buried his face in his hands and started to sob in frustration.  He had been trying for hours to remove the final hinge pin but it was jammed in harder than the other two and he could not get enough leverage to pull it free.  At first he had remained calm and instead of giving up, he had once again tried to knock the door down.  But when that did not work, his frustration had slowly mounted.  Now, three hours later, he was at breaking point.  They had been in the basement for thirty hours and apart from Booker’s fleeting moment of awareness, he remained unconscious.

The chink of faint light beneath the door slowly vanished and the basement once again became shrouded in darkness.  Tom carefully made his way down the stairs and kneeling down, he fumbled in the dim light until his fingers found the discarded knife.  He shoved it in his pocket and sitting down on the cold cement floor, he pulled Dennis into his arms.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured in a teary voice.  “I’m so sorry.”

Booker’s body twitched slightly and Tom’s eyes widened in excitement.  “Dennis,” he whispered against his ear.  “Can you hear me?”  When he received no response, he tried again, “Dennis, are you awake?”

Seconds passed and just when he began to think he had imagined it, Booker’s body convulsed violently in his arms.  

When Tom realized that Dennis was having a seizure, he cried out in alarm, “DENNIS!  _NOOO!_   Dennis don’t die!  Oh GOD, don’t leave me Dennis!  Don’t leave _me!_   Somebody help us!  _PLEASE!_   DENNIS!  DENNIS!  DENN- _IIIS!”_

But nobody answered his desperate screams and when Booker went limp in his arms, he held him close and sobbed uncontrollably.

**

_Monday 7.38 p.m._

Penhall’s car screeched to a halt outside 1832 Sparrow Road and jumping out, he unholstered his gun.  Two patrol cars with lights flashing pulled up behind him and several officers disembarked, each with guns drawn.  Fuller had insisted they take the time to get a warrant and the waiting around had almost driven Doug insane.  But they had finally arrived and with paperwork in hand, he and Ioki rushed towards the front door.

“Police!  Open up!” he yelled as he banged on the door.  “We have a warrant to search the premises.”

Jarrod’s pale face appeared at the window.  “Go away!” the boy shouted in a shaky voice.  “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

Doug gave him a hard stare.  “I’ll give you five seconds before I break down the door.  One… two… three… four…”

The battered door opened and Doug charged inside.  “WHERE ARE THEY?” he screamed in the teenager’s frightened face.

Jarrod burst into tears.  “I never meant to hurt no one,” he sobbed.  “I thought it was just a game and my uncle would let them out.  I’m sorry… I’m _sorry!”_

Stepping forward, Harry placed a reassuring arm around the trembling youth’s shoulders.  “Just tell us where they are.”

**

_Monday 7.56 p.m._

Tom’s eyes flew open and lowering Booker’s head onto the makeshift pillow beside him, he scrambled to his feet.  He was certain that somewhere in the distance, he had heard the wail of a siren.  Standing still, he strained his ears and he cried out in excitement as the familiar _eee-ooo-eee-ooo-eee-ooo whoop, whoop, whoop_ of a police car siren grew steadily louder.  Help had arrived.

“They’re here!  They’re here!” he screamed in excitement and rushing up the stairs, he banged his fists on the heavy door.  “Help!  Help!  We’re in the basement!  Get an ambulance!  Help!”

“Tommy!” Doug yelled from the other side of the door.

“Doug!” Tom cried out in relief as tears streamed down his face.  “Booker’s really hurt!  He needs help, oh God I think he’s dying!”

“Stand back!” Doug called out.  “We’re going to break the door down.”

Hanson ran down the stairs and gently pulled Booker’s body away from the steps.  “We’re clear!” he yelled as he cradled his lover in his arms.

Seconds later the door broke open and fell onto the stairs.  The weight caused several steps to give way and the door crashed to the ground below.  Penhall’s hulking frame loomed in the doorway.  “I’m coming down.” 

“Be careful!” Tom called out and he watched nervously as his friend climbed down the broken staircase.

Kneeling down on the ground, Doug placed a gentle hand behind Tom’s neck and gazed into his dark eyes.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes and he nodded.  “I’m fine,” he replied in a wobbly voice.  But Booker… he’s having these seizures and I didn’t know what to do.”

“The paramedics are on their way,” Doug reassured quietly.  “Now let’s get you upstairs—”

Tom’s head moved violently from left to right.  “No, I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“Sure pal, whatever you want,” Penhall murmured softly.  The level of concern Hanson felt for Booker puzzled him somewhat, but he did not question it.  The two young men had been through a terrible ordeal and he figured it was only natural for Tom to worry about his fellow officer’s welfare.

Sitting down, he kept a reassuring arm around his friend’s shoulders as they waited for the paramedics to arrive.

**

_Monday 10.23 p.m._

Saint Mary’s E.R. was quiet for a Monday night and the only sound was a small child whose paroxysmal coughing was slowly driving Penhall crazy.  He turned his attention to Tom but it did not take long for his friend’s incessant pacing to grate on his nerves.  “For God’s sake Hanson, sit down!”

Tom gave Doug an apologetic look.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  He sat down but nervous energy continued to pump through his body and he could not keep his legs from jittering up and down.  “I just want to know how he is.”

Penhall handed him a packet of sandwiches he had bought from the vending machine in the corridor.  “You need to eat something.”

Shaking his head, Tom stood back up and continued his pacing.  “I’m not hungry.”

Sighing heavily, Doug placed the sandwiches back down on the seat next to him.  “You must be hungry Tommy, you haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”

“I’m fine,” Tom muttered distractedly as his eyes caught sight of their captain walking briskly down the corridor towards them.   When he glimpsed the grave expression on his superior’s face, he let out a sob.  “Oh God.”

Penhall got slowly to his feet and stood next to Tom.  “How is he Coach?”

Fuller’s facial expression remained grim.  “I’ve just spoken to a doctor in ICU.  The head injury Booker received when he fell down the stairs has caused a blood clot in his brain.”

Tom chewed nervously on his lower lip.  “But they can fix it, right?” he asked in a hopeful voice.  “I mean, they’ll give him a drug and the clot will disappear.”

Penhall looked deep into his captain’s eyes and he immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.  Placing an arm around Tom’s shoulders, he gave them a squeeze.  “Tommy, I think it might be a bit more serious than that.”

“No!” Tom yelled, unwilling to believe the worst and pulling away from Doug, he raked his fingers through his hair as he once again began to pace frantically around the room.  “He opened his eyes!  He spoke to me!  It can’t be that serious, it _can’t!”_

Stepping forward, Fuller laid a gentle hand on Tom’s arm.  “None of this is your fault,” he soothed in a gentle voice.  “But you have to accept what has happened.”

Tears filled Tom’s eyes.  “Tell me he’s going to be all right,” he whispered.  “ _Please_ tell me he’s going to be all right.”

Fuller’s own eyes misted over and he noisily cleared the lump that had formed in his throat.  “The clot has blocked a blood vessel in Booker’s brain.  I’m sorry Tom, he’s had a stroke.”

The shock of the news coupled with a lack of food finally took its toll on Tom’s body.   His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.  



	19. Cold Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Saint Mary’s E.R. was quiet for a Monday night and the only sound was a small child whose paroxysmal coughing was slowly driving Penhall crazy. He turned his attention to Tom but it did not take long for his friend’s incessant pacing to grate on his nerves. “For God’s sake Hanson, sit down!”_
> 
> _Tom gave Doug an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he muttered. He sat down but nervous energy continued to pump through his body and he could not keep his legs from jittering up and down. “I just want to know how he is.”_
> 
> _Penhall handed him a packet of sandwiches he had bought from the vending machine in the corridor. “You need to eat something.”_
> 
> _Shaking his head, Tom stood back up and continued his pacing. “I’m not hungry.”_
> 
> _Sighing heavily, Doug placed the sandwiches back down on the seat next to him. “You must be hungry Tommy, you haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”_
> 
> _“I’m fine,” Tom muttered distractedly as his eyes caught sight of their captain walking briskly down the corridor towards them. When he glimpsed the grave expression on his superior’s face, he let out a sob. “Oh God.”_
> 
> _Penhall got slowly to his feet and stood next to Tom. “How is he Coach?”_
> 
> _Fuller’s facial expression remained grim. “I’ve just spoken to a doctor in ICU. The head injury Booker received when he fell down the stairs has caused a blood clot in his brain.”_
> 
> _Tom chewed nervously on his lower lip. “But they can fix it, right?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “I mean, they’ll give him a drug and the clot will disappear.”_
> 
> _Penhall looked deep into his captain’s eyes and he immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. Placing an arm around Tom’s shoulders, he gave them a squeeze. “Tommy, I think it might be a bit more serious than that.”_
> 
> _“No!” Tom yelled, unwilling to believe the worst and pulling away from Doug, he raked his fingers through his hair as he once again began to pace frantically around the room. “He opened his eyes! He spoke to me! It can’t be that serious, it can’t!”_
> 
> _Stepping forward, Fuller laid a gentle hand on Tom’s arm. “None of this is your fault,” he soothed in a gentle voice. “But you have to accept what has happened.”_
> 
> _Tears filled Tom’s eyes. “Tell me he’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “Please tell me he’s going to be all right.”_
> 
> _Fuller’s own eyes misted over and he noisily cleared the lump that had formed in his throat. “The clot has blocked a blood vessel in Booker’s brain. I’m sorry Tom, he’s had a stroke.”_
> 
> _The shock of the news coupled with a lack of food finally took its toll on Tom’s body. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor in a dead faint._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590887060/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Cold Shoulder**  

The yellow cab pulled up outside Hanson’s apartment building and the driver turned in his seat.  “That’ll be eighteen fifty,” he informed his passengers in a bored voice.

Tom looked up in surprise.  “Aren’t you going home?” he asked Penhall quietly.

Doug paid the driver and shook his head.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be on your own,” he replied in a soft voice.  “We’ll order some pizza and we can talk, or not talk, whatever you want.”

“I want to be alone,” Tom muttered.  “I’m tired and all I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch,” Doug responded cheerfully.

Tom sighed wearily, “Doug, you don’t have to babysit me, I’m fine.  Now go home and I’ll see you at the Chapel in the morning.”

"C'mon fellas, time is money," the driver intervened in a loud voice.

Penhall studied Tom’s pale face for a moment before replying.  “Okay Hanson, but if you need to talk—”

“I’ll call you,” Hanson murmured.  Climbing out of the car, he closed the door and leaning in through the open window, he managed a small smile.  “Thanks… you know, for finding us.”

Doug’s smile did not quite meet his eyes.  “You’re welcome buddy.”

As he watched the cab drive away, Tom felt his composure falter and he stifled a sob.  The nurses had prevented him from seeing Dennis because he was not family.  Also, he could not reveal his true emotions to his best friend or his captain because neither knew of his deep feelings for the man lying in ICU.  Everything was a lie.  He had to keep his emotions in check and pretend that Booker was just a colleague, a friend whose welfare he was concerned about and nothing more.  But in reality, he was falling apart.  His lover was lying in hospital having suffered a stroke and he could not even see him and tell him he loved him.  He was not privy to his medical condition and he had no idea if he was awake or whether or not the stroke had caused any physical damage.  It was a living nightmare and he now wished he had stood his ground and prevented Dennis from entering the house.  However, deep down, he knew that he was not to blame.  Booker was headstrong and no one could stop him from doing anything he set his mind to do.

Wiping a hand across his watery eyes, Tom turned and walked slowly into his building.  He had not lied to Penhall, all he wanted was a hot shower and sleep because only then did he have any hope of blocking out the pain that was shattering his heart.

**

_The following morning_

Awakening from a troubled sleep, Tom glanced at the clock and let out a sigh.  He had only managed a few fitful hours of slumber and he felt emotionally exhausted.  He knew Fuller expected him at the Chapel first thing so he could type up his account of what had happened at the abandoned house, but he had other ideas.  He _needed_ to see Booker and come hell or high water, he was going to see him.

After a quick shower and shave, he forwent breakfast and drove straight to the hospital.  The smell of antiseptic churned his stomach and he fought to control the urge to vomit as he rode the elevator up to the ICU.  Stepping out into the corridor, a nurse immediately intercepted him and asked whom he was there to see.  Unable to say the words _I’m Dennis’ boyfriend,_ he explained that he was Booker’s police partner but the admission carried no weight.  “I’m sorry sir,” the nurse replied with a shake of her head.  “Family only in ICU.”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep his voice calm.  “Is it okay if I just sit outside in the corridor for awhile?” 

The nurse hesitated for a moment before nodding her head.  “But if the family complains, you’ll have to leave.”

“Fine,” Tom muttered and taking a seat in one of the red plastic chairs that lined the corridor, he slouched down and let out a sigh of frustration.  Minutes slowly passed into hours and he completely forgot that he should have reported for work.  His eyes occasionally flittered towards the open doorway of the Intensive Care Unit but all he could see was the foot of a bed.  Several nurses continuously scurried in and out, their soft-soled shoes squeaking on the polished floor and an occasional alarm sounded, which increased the hurried footsteps.  Four hours passed and just as he was about to leave, he saw a middle-aged woman exit the lift.

There was no mistaking the dark penetrating eyes and jet-black hair and he quickly stood up and wiped the palm of his hand on his jeans.  When the woman was a few feet away from him, he stepped out in front of her and extended his hand.  “Mrs. Booker?”

Joyce Booker ignored the hand in front of her and stared at Tom in surprise, her dark eyes suspicious.  “Can I help you?” she asked in a tense voice.

Feeling foolish, Tom lowered his hand and his mouth twitched nervously.  “I’m Tom, Tom Hanson.  I work with Dennis.”

Dennis’ mom hesitated for a moment before offering her hand.  “Oh, so _you’re_ the Tom we keep hearing about.”

A pink blush stained Tom’s cheeks as they briefly shook hands.  Although he felt uncomfortable, it was a relief not to have to explain himself to Dennis’ mother.  “So I guess Dennis told you about—”

“Yes,” Joyce interrupted in a tired voice, “he did.  Now is there something I can help you with?”

Taken aback by her dismissive manner, Tom found himself faltering.  “I um… I just… I mean… I haven’t been able to see him and I was hoping—”

“You want to see him?” Joyce asked in a flat voice.  “Is that what you’re saying?”

Tom’s blush deepened.  “Yes,” he mumbled awkwardly.  “I just want to know if he’s all right.”

Joyce’s mouth set in a hard line.  “He’s had a stroke Officer Hanson, so no, he’s _not_ all right and I’m sorry, but this is a time for family only.  Denny’s been through a lot and he needs his rest.”

It took several seconds for Joyce’s words to impact on Tom’s brain.  “You’re telling me I can’t see him?” he asked in a disbelieving voice.  “Why would you do that?”  It was then that he saw a flash of sadness in Joyce’s eyes and his voice lowered to a whisper.  “Doesn’t he want to see me?”

“I’m sorry,” Joyce muttered, unable to meet Tom’s incredulous stare.  “He’s asked that no one visit him, at least for the moment.”

Tom’s eyes filled with tears.  “He’s awake?  He’s talking?”

Joyce’s eyes mirrored Tom’s pain.  “He’s communicating, in a manner of speaking but he’s not…” she paused for a moment and taking a deep breath, she spoke in a firm voice, “I’m sorry Tom, but that’s all I’m prepared to say.”

As she turned and walked towards the ICU, Tom grasped at her sleeve.  “Please!  Tell him I was here… tell him I love him!”

But he received no answer to his impassioned plea and he watched in despair as Joyce pulled free of his hold and disappeared from sight.

**

When Tom arrived at the Chapel, Fuller immediately summoned him into his office.  He closed the door behind him and waited for the shouting to begin but he was surprised when his captain placed a comforting arm around his shoulders.  The gesture was so unexpected that his eyes filled with tears and he choked back a sob.  Fuller quickly guided him to a chair and they both sat down.  Tom wiped at his eyes and offered his superior a watery smile.  “Sorry.”

Fuller shook his head.  “No need to apologize Hanson.  Did you get any sleep?”

Tom shook his head.  “Not really.”  He paused for a moment before asking what was foremost on his mind.  “Coach, have you heard any news on Booker’s condition?”

A deep frown creased Fuller’s brow.  “The family has requested only minimal information be released.  He’s awake but that’s all they’ll tell me.”

“How can they _do_ that?” Tom exclaimed in frustration.  “We’ve got a right to know how he is!”

Fuller sighed.  “We may find out more once the Commissioner has spoken to the family but until then, I’m afraid we’re in the dark.”  A long silence hung in the air and as he gazed at Tom’s morose expression, he cleared his throat.  “How about some good news.  Jarrod’s agreed to give evidence against his cousin.  He’ll testify that Robbie Watkins told him he had a plan to ‘take you out’ because you and Booker had threatened to encroach on his drug trade.  Also, he’s given a statement confirming that it was his uncle who locked you in the basement so on that information, Terrance Watkins has been arrested and charged with false imprisonment.”

When Tom’s only reaction to the statement was a wan smile, he placed a hand on his arm.  “Go home Hanson, take a few days off and get your head straight.”

Tom did not argue.  He did not want to be at work, he wanted to be at the hospital but he could not tell his captain that because he feared he would try and talk him out of it.  So instead, he forced a smile and stood up.  “Yeah, I think I need to catch up on some sleep,” he lied.

Fuller nodded but as he silently watched Tom leave the room, he felt a moment of unease.

**

Bright sunlight shone through the windshield and Tom pulled down the sun visor and rubbed at the pain that stabbed at his temples.  He had not eaten in well over forty-eight hours and he was beginning to feel lightheaded.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a fast food outlet and pulling into the drive-thru, he ordered a burger, fries and coke.  When the monosyllabic attendant handed him his food, the greasy smell made him gag but he managed to force down the acidic bile that rose in his throat and parking his Mustang, he opened the brown paper bag.  Once again, the smell assaulted his senses but this time he could not control his stomach and opening the car door, he vomited watery liquid onto the asphalt.  His face burned red and his vision blurred as he wiped a trembling hand over his mouth.  He knew he was close to passing out and that he should not be driving but his urge to be near Booker was overwhelming.  Closing the door, he stared at the unappetizing burger sitting on the passenger seat.  He had no choice, he had to eat and he had to keep it down.

Picking up the bun, he nibbled at the edges.  His stomach lurched but he managed to overcome his need to vomit.  He washed each tiny morsel down with a swig of cola and as the sugar entered his bloodstream, he gradually began to feel better.  It took him thirty minutes to finish his meal but by the time he had swallowed the last mouthful, his hands were steady and his headache was all but gone.  

He screwed the wrappers into a ball and tossed them into a nearby trashcan.  Now that he had a stomach full of food, he felt ready to continue his journey to the hospital.  It was his hope that he would have a second chance to speak to Dennis’ mother.  He had been surprised at the coldness she had shown towards him, especially after Dennis had told him that his parents were supportive of his bisexuality.  However, that was not the impression Tom had been left with after speaking to Joyce Booker.  He had the distinct feeling that she was none too thrilled to have come face to face with her son’s lover and he wondered how many boyfriends Dennis had actually introduced to his parents.

Pushing the thought aside, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out into the afternoon traffic.  



	20. How Can You Mend This Broken Man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I have chosen the song "How Can You Mend A Broken Heart" to accompany this chapter.  My father suffered a stroke ten years ago and during his first year of rehabilitation, he would play this song over and over again.  It literally broke my heart.  However, ten years on, he is now 81 years old and although he never fully recovered, he is living a full and happy life.**
> 
> **In peace,**   
>  **OpenPage x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Bright sunlight shone through the windshield and Tom pulled down the sun visor and rubbed at the pain that stabbed at his temples. He had not eaten in well over forty-eight hours and he was beginning to feel lightheaded. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a fast food outlet and pulling into the drive-thru, he ordered a burger, fries and coke. When the monosyllabic attendant handed him his food, the greasy smell made him gag but he managed to force down the acidic bile that rose in his throat and parking his Mustang, he opened the brown paper bag. Once again, the smell assaulted his senses but this time he could not control his stomach and opening the car door, he vomited watery liquid onto the asphalt. His face burned red and his vision blurred as he wiped a trembling hand over his mouth. He knew he was close to passing out and that he should not be driving but his urge to be near Booker was overwhelming. Closing the door, he stared at the unappetizing burger lying on the passenger seat. He had no choice, he had to eat and he had to keep it down._
> 
> _Picking up the bun, he nibbled at the edges. His stomach lurched but he managed to overcome his need to vomit. He washed each tiny morsel down with a swig of cola and as the sugar entered his bloodstream, he gradually began to feel better. It took him thirty minutes to finish his meal but by the time he had swallowed the last mouthful, his hands were steady and his headache was all but gone._
> 
> _He screwed the wrappers into a ball and tossed them into a nearby trashcan. Now that he had a stomach full of food, he felt ready to continue his journey to the hospital. It was his hope that he would have a second chance to speak to Dennis’ mother. He had been surprised at the coldness she had shown towards him, especially after Dennis had told him that his parents were supportive of his bisexuality. However, that was not the impression Tom had been left with after speaking to Joyce Booker. He had the distinct feeling that she was none too thrilled to have come face to face with her son’s lover and he wondered how many boyfriends Dennis had actually introduced to his parents._
> 
> _Pushing the thought aside, he turned the key in the ignition and pulled out into the afternoon traffic._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590886650/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**[How Can You Mend This Broken Man?](viewstory.php?sid=55580&chapter=20) **

**Lyrics from "How Can You Mend a Broken Heart" by the Bee Gees**

I can think of younger days when living for my life  
Was everything a man could want to do  
I could never see tomorrow,  
But I was never told about the sorrow 

And how can you mend a broken heart?  
How can you stop the rain from falling down?  
How can you stop the sun from shining?  
What makes the world go round?  
How can you mend this broken man?  
How can a loser ever win?  
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again 

I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees  
And misty memories of days gone by  
We could never see tomorrow,  
No one said a word about the sorrow 

And how can you mend a broken heart?  
How can you stop the rain from falling down?  
How can you stop the sun from shining?  
What makes the world go round?  
And how can you mend this broken man?  
How can a loser ever win?  
Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again 

La la la la la la, la la la la  
La la la la la la, la la la la 

Please help me mend my broken heart and let me live again 

Da da da da  
Da da da da, da da da da da, da 

_Six days later_

Tom sat at his desk, chewing on the end of his pen as he stared off into space.  He had spent every evening sitting outside of the ICU, all the while hoping that he would run into Joyce Booker so he could once again plead his case to see Dennis.  But if the Booker family were at the hospital, he never saw them and he had to content himself with giving the nurses handwritten messages to pass onto Dennis.  The only real news he received about his lover’s condition was what his captain told him; he was awake and resting comfortably.  But to Tom, that was a politician’s response, a way to avoid answering the question.  He knew it was not Fuller’s fault, his superior was getting his information from the Commissioner, the Commissioner was getting it from Booker’s family and they were being very cagey with the information they divulged.  However, that did not lessen the deep, crushing hurt he felt in his heart; hurt at being kept in the dark about Dennis’ condition and hurt that he could not openly confess his love because he knew what his friends and family would think; they would be horrified.

With a sigh, he tossed down his pen and gazed up at the clock.  He still had another hour to kill before he could leave and go to the hospital.  Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and thought about Dennis.  He wondered if his family was sitting with him, if he was able to speak, eat, drink or walk.  There were so many variables to consider with regards to a person’s physical and mental state after suffering a stroke.  Many found themselves paralyzed down one side; other’s lost their speech or suffered facial palsy.  It was all an unknown.  But as the days passed by, he began to imagine the worst.  He remembered how angry Booker was at having to use a walking stick because of the injury to his leg and it terrified him to think how his lover was coping emotionally.  If Dennis _was_ left permanently disabled, he felt sure that their relationship would be over.  Not because _he_ wanted it to end, but because Dennis would not allow him to witness the daily struggles.  Booker was a very proud and private man and Tom was certain he would shut him out because he feared seeing the pitying look in his eyes.  His ego was too great and he would rather fight on alone than risk feeling like a victim.

At the thought of what might become, Tom blinked back the tears that threatened to spill from his brown eyes and quickly pulled himself together.  Opening his eyes, he saw Penhall’s puzzled face scrutinizing him from across the room.  He ran a hand through his hair and forced a smile to his lips but he could see by Doug’s expression that his attempt at happiness was unconvincing and he chewed nervously at his thumbnail as his friend approached.

“Everything okay Hanson?” Doug asked gently.

Tom endeavored yet again to force a smile but he could not keep the sarcasm out of his voice.  “Peachy.  You?”

Penhall pulled up a chair and straddling it backwards, he rested his arms on the wooden back and gazed into his friend’s eyes.  “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter Tommy.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Tom mumbled against his thumb.  “I’m just sick of sitting around here all day doing squat.”  When Doug continued to stare at him with his dark, penetrating eyes, he quickly lowered his head.  He was terrified that his best friend would be able to read his thoughts and see the love he felt for Booker and the pain he felt in his heart at the suffering he was enduring.

But Penhall was not that astute and he figured Hanson’s melancholy mood really was because of boredom.  Standing up, he walked over and placed an arm around his shoulder.  “What you need is a night out,” he suggested enthusiastically.  “How ‘bout we go bowling.”

Doug’s cheerful lopsided grin had the desired effect and Tom managed a genuine smile.  “Sure, how about I meet you there at seven.”

“Get ready to have your ass whipped,” Doug shot back cheekily.

This time Tom managed a laugh, “In your dreams Penhall.”  As he watched his friend walk back to his desk, he felt happier than he had in days.  He would go to the hospital first, leave another message with the nurses to pass on to Dennis and then he would allow himself to have some fun, if only for a short while.  He knew he needed it, his depression was starting to monopolize his life and if he was to give Dennis the support he needed, he had to have a positive outlook.

Picking up his pen, he scrawled a message to Dennis.

**

For the first time in days, Tom wore the expression of a happy man.  He was looking forward to spending time with Penhall and putting aside his stresses for a few hours.  It was not that he was forgetting about Dennis and his fight to get well, it was that he needed to pull himself out of his misery.  Otherwise, he knew he would fall into a pit of despair that he would not be able to climb out of and that frightened him.  He was not one to fall apart; he had always prided himself on being resilient and strong.  But Dennis evoked intense emotions within him that he did not even know existed.  He physically _hurt_ for his lover and that was a new experience.

Arriving at the nurses’ station, he smiled broadly at one of the ICU nurses that he had come to know.  “So Emily, I guess it’s still pointless me asking you how Dennis is?”

Emily Page looked up from her paperwork in surprise.  “Tom, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Hanson’s smile quickly vanished and his face visibly paled.  “Why, has something happened?” he asked in alarm.

Seeing the terrified look on Tom’s face, Emily reached over the counter and gently touched his cheek.  “Oh sweetie, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad.  Dennis has been moved to a rehabilitation clinic, that’s all.”

The breath Tom had been holding escaped in a rush of air.  “Oh thank God!  You scared the hell out of me!  Where’s he gone?”

Emily’s expression saddened.  “You know I can’t tell you that,” she replied in a quiet voice.  “The family has asked for privacy.”

“Fuck the family!” Tom exclaimed in a burst of aggression.  “They’ve got no right to keep him from me!  No fucking right!  I’m his…”

As his voice trailed off, a flicker of understanding flashed in Emily’s eyes and she spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, “Tom, are you and Dennis _involved?”_

“ _Why?”_ Tom spat back angrily.  “Would it have made a difference, huh?  Would you have allowed me to see him if I’d admitted I was his _gay_ lover?  Or would it have just been a tasty bit of gossip to relieve the boredom.”

When he saw Emily’s hurt expression, his anger vanished as quickly as it had risen.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.  “I know none of this is your fault.”

Emily walked around the counter and taking hold of his hand, she led him over to one of the red plastic chairs that had become his second home.  After motioning for him to sit down, she sat next to him and grasped his hand in both of hers.  “I’m really, really sorry.  If I’d known, I might have been able to convince the Bookers to let you see Dennis.”

Overcome with emotion, Tom’s eyes filled with tears and he lowered his head in embarrassment.  “It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he sobbed softly.  “He didn’t want to see me.”

Emily’s eyebrows knitted together.  “Who told you that?”

Wiping at his eyes, Tom sniffed loudly.  “Dennis’ mom.”

 A dark cloud crossed over Emily’s face.  “Well, she may have said that but it’s not true, at least as far as I know.”

Lifting his head, Tom stared back at her in puzzlement.  “What do you mean?  Joyce _told_ me he didn’t want to see me.  I’ve been sending him notes and never once has there been a message back.  If he wanted to see me he would have let somebody know!”

It was Emily’s turn to look embarrassed.  “Actually… Tom, there’s something I should tell you.  Joyce Booker intercepted every note we took in.  I doubt Dennis even got to read them.”

“ _What?!”_ Tom cried out incredulously.  “Does he even know that I was here every day?  Did anyone tell him how worried I’ve been?”

Emily’s embarrassment intensified.  “We weren’t allowed to,” she muttered uncomfortably.  “Nurse Collins is friends with Joyce Booker and we were instructed to keep quiet about your visits.”

A single whispered word tumbled from Tom’s lips, “Why?”

“I honestly don’t know Tom,” Emily admitted.  “None of us knew you were his boyfriend so it can’t be anything to do with that.  Maybe it was because—”

“Bullshit,” Tom muttered furiously.  “ _She_ didn’t want anyone finding out that her precious Dennis was gay.  She pretends that she’s supportive of his sexuality but she’s not, she’s a conniving, evil bitch.”

“Maybe…” Emily replied carefully.  “Or maybe she’s just protecting him.”

Tom’s eyes flashed angrily.  “From what?  _Me?”_

“I don’t know,” Emily replied slowly.  “But you were with him when this happened.”

Getting quickly to his feet, Tom angrily pulled his hand from Emily’s grasp.  “YOU THINK THIS IS _MY_ FAULT?!” he yelled.  “I TRIED TO GET US OUT!  I TRIED EVERYTHING I KNEW!  _I_ DIDN’T PUSH HIM DOWN THE STAIRS!  _I_ DIDN’T LOCK US IN THE BASEMENT!  SO HOW THE FUCK CAN THIS BE _MY_ FAULT?!”

Emily stood up and slowly backed away.  “Tom, you need to calm down.”

“FUCK YOU!” Tom screamed.  “FUCK _ALL_ OF YOU!  I LOVE HIM!  I FUCKING _LOVE_ HIM!”  

A security guard approached from out of nowhere and laid a forceful hand on Tom’s shoulder.  “You need to leave the hospital _NOW_.”

Shrugging away from the man’s hold, Tom glared at him angrily.  “Don’t worry, I’m going.  I don’t want to spend another minute in this place,” and turning away, he exited the hospital with all thoughts of bowling now forgotten.

**

After a week of constant care and family presence, Dennis found the silence of being alone both relaxing and disconcerting.  He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thought back over the last few days.  When he awoke in hospital to find the right side of his body weak and his mouth drooping, he had felt sheer panic.  However, that had been just the beginning of his nightmare.  Opening his mouth, he had tried to speak, but his words had come out slow and slurred and he sounded like a drunken old man.  His family and the nursing staff had consoled him, telling him that it was early days, he was fit and young and he would fight his way back to full health.  But to him, his life was over.  He could not imagine himself ever feeling strong again; he was a broken man.

Then there was Tom.  He had asked his parents repeatedly to contact him but they had averted their eyes and mumbled weak excuses; Tom was busy, Tom did not answer his phone, Tom said he might come and visit tomorrow.  It pained him that the man he loved so passionately had deserted him in his hour of need.  He could not understand why Tom was avoiding him and the only conclusion he could come to was that he did not want a disabled lover.

As the painful memories once again surfaced in his mind, tears of sorrow and heartache blurred his vision.  He had taken a bullet for Hanson and it was only now that he realized how little he meant to him.  He was an inconvenience, an embarrassment and he had consequently been discarded like an old shoe.  No one from the Jump Street program had been in to visit him and it hurt to think that he was so inconsequential.  He knew he was an outsider, he always had been, but he had never imagined that his colleagues hated him.  However, that was the only reasoning he could come up with to explain their lack of concern.  It was a harsh reality and he vowed to himself that once he was able to, he would quit the force and find another job.

He was tired of being surrounded by people and feeling completely alone.  He could be alone all by himself.  



	21. Amidst the Pain I Think of You and How It Used to Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: After a week of constant care and family presence, Dennis found the silence of being alone both relaxing and disconcerting. He lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling and thought back over the last few days. When he awoke in hospital to find the right side of his body weak and his mouth drooping, he had felt sheer panic. However, that had been just the beginning of his nightmare. Opening his mouth, he had tried to speak, but his words had come out slow and slurred and he sounded like a drunken old man. His family and the nursing staff had consoled him, telling him that it was early days, he was fit and young and he would fight his way back to full health. But to him, his life was over. He could not imagine himself ever feeling strong again; he was a broken man._
> 
> _Then there was Tom. He had asked his parents repeatedly to contact him but they had averted their eyes and mumbled weak excuses; Tom was busy, Tom did not answer his phone, Tom said he might come and visit tomorrow. It pained him that the man he loved so passionately had deserted him in his hour of need. He could not understand why Tom was avoiding him and the only conclusion he could come to was that he did not want a disabled lover._
> 
> _As the painful memories once again surfaced in his mind, tears of sorrow and heartache blurred his vision. He had taken a bullet for Hanson and it was only now that he realized how little he meant to him. He was an inconvenience, an embarrassment and he had consequently been discarded like an old shoe. No one from the Jump Street program had been in to visit him and it hurt to think that he was so inconsequential. He knew he was an outsider, he always had been, but he had never imagined that his colleagues hated him. However, that was the only reasoning he could come up with to explain their lack of concern. It was a harsh reality and he vowed to himself that once he was able to, he would quit the force and find another job._
> 
> _He was tired of being surrounded by people and feeling completely alone. He could be alone all by himself._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590886490/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Amidst the Pain I Think of You and How It Used to Be**

_Five  days later_

The occupational therapist placed her hands on her hips and gave Booker an impatient look, “Come on Dennis, you’ve got to try.”

Dennis stood clutching the walking frame tightly with his left hand, his knuckles turning white from the pressure, whilst his right hand grasped weakly at the metal frame.  “I… can’t,” he slurred, his voice rising in panic.  “I’ll… fall!”

Mary Donaldson stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “I promise you Dennis, you won’t fall.  Now, push the frame and take a step forward with your right foot.”

Grasping hold of the cold metal as securely as he could, Dennis pushed the frame forward a couple of centimeters.  “That’s it,” Mary encouraged, “now lift your right foot.”

The last thing Dennis wanted to do was move away from the safety of his bed.  The right side of his body felt like jello and his foot was completely numb, making it difficult to tell if it was resting on the floor.  Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before opening them again.  Mary was still standing in front of him, her once pleasant demeanor now showing signs of strain.  “Dennis, pick up your foot,” she instructed.

A deep frown creased Dennis’ brow as he concentrated on getting his brain to do as the therapist asked.  Leaning slightly forward, he dragged his useless right foot across the floor.  However, when he moved, he felt his balance faltering and as the fear of falling consumed his thoughts, he lost concentration.  “I… _CAN’T!”_ he cried out and letting go of the walker, he fell back onto the mattress.  Emotion and embarrassment overwhelmed him and throwing an arm over his face, he began to weep like a small child.

Mary let out a heavy sigh.  When she had met Dennis for his first assessment, she had seen a dogged determination in his dark eyes and she had immediately looked forward to working with him.  From her point of view, it was much easier working with clients who _wanted_ to improve their mobility rather than those who wallowed in self-pity or enjoyed the attention of being disabled.  But over the ensuing days, she had seen a decline in his mental state.  Depression was common in those who found themselves suddenly incapacitated, especially in the fit and the young and she had initially hoped that once they got started, Booker would find the resolve to push himself through the fear and uncertainty.  However, it was not to be.  He had barely made any progress in the four days she had been working with him and she was now becoming frustrated.  She knew her approach was somewhat less conventional than many of her peers and that she lacked the bedside manner that many of her colleagues employed to ease their patients’ initial trepidation.  But the results spoke for themselves.  She had a hundred percent success rate of getting her clients back up on their feet and mobile again and she would be damned if Dennis would sully her record.

Moving over to the bed, she stood over the distraught young officer, “Dennis, sit up.”

Booker had managed to curl into the fetal position and his right arm hid his face from view.  “I-I’m… t-tired,” he sobbed.

Annoyed by Dennis' lack of motivation, Mary gave a derisive snort.  “I expected more from you Officer Booker,” she scolded.  “I want to see a better attitude from you tomorrow.”

Dennis murmured a soft “Fuck… you,” into the mattress and when he was certain she had gone, he clumsily pulled himself up the bed and laid his head on the pillow.  Although he knew he was being a pain in the ass, he had lost all his drive.  He missed Tom and the pain of his lover walking out on him during the most difficult time of his life still caused a physical pain in his heart and a slow decay of his mind.  His depression was increasing and he felt no desire to get well.  All he wanted to do was fall asleep and never wake up.  If this was his life, he did not want to live it.

Rolling onto his side, he allowed the self-pitying tears to stream down his face.  He was no longer Dennis Booker; he was now just a shadow of a man.

**

Joyce Booker strode up the airy corridor with a bunch of flowers in her hand.  She wanted to brighten Dennis’ room and make it more homely.  She had arranged for her husband to bring in a cassette player and some of Dennis’ tapes in the hope that music would help to lift his spirits.  She had seen a gradual decline in her son’s mental health and she was becoming increasingly concerned.  It was something she had dealt with before, when Dennis was struggling with his sexuality.  Of course, at the time, she had no idea what was causing his melancholy mood and she had put it down to typical teenage hormones.  However, years later when he finally came out about his bisexuality, she had put two and two together and she wished she had known so she could have helped him through his turmoil.  

But that was the past and this was now and this time she had the chance to make things right.  She knew that part of Dennis’ depression was because he thought Tom had deserted him and that was something she could fix.  She had overreacted at the hospital, the shock of seeing her son weak and confused had pushed her motherly protective instincts into overdrive.  To have a stranger accost her in the corridor and announce that he was her baby boy’s lover was too much to bear.  If she had known Tom beforehand, she knew she would have behaved differently.  However, he was just a name to her and even though she knew Dennis loved him, she could not deal with the emotion at that time.  She loved her son and she supported his choices but she had never come face to face with one of his male lovers before and it had completely overwhelmed her.  But mistakes could be rectified and she now hoped to make amends, for Dennis’ sake and for Tom’s.  She needed to bring them back together and she hoped with all her heart that Tom could help her son overcome the tough obstacles that lay ahead of him.

**

Tom walked into his apartment and kicking off his boots, he stripped off his clothes and headed into the bathroom.  He turned on the shower and stood staring at the steamy water for several moments before stepping into the cubicle and pulling the curtain around him.  Tilting his head forward, he allowed the warm soothing water to cascade over his tense body.  He had spent the last five nights trawling through the phone book in search of rehabilitation clinics.  He had placed dozens of phone calls in the desperate search for Dennis but each time he received the same polite response; information on patients was strictly private.  Sleep had become elusive and when it was too late to make any calls, he lay in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if his lover was thinking about him.

Feeling the need to relieve his stress, he reached down and fondled his cock.  He closed his eyes and took his time, enjoying the sensation as his erection gradually sprang to life.  Bracing his free hand against the tiled wall, he slowly moved his hand up and down his shaft.  Thoughts of Dennis flashed into his mind and his fist pumped faster.  He imagined Dennis’ mouth engulfing him; the sweet pulsation of his trademark humming vibrating his cockhead and with a strangled cry, he ejaculated over his hand.

Tears of misery and fatigue leaked from his eyes and he stifled a sob.  Never in his life had he felt such an intense love for another human being and it frightened and yet exhilarated him to know that Booker was the one; he was his soul mate.

Turning off the faucets, he stepped from the shower and grabbed a towel.  After drying off, he ran his fingers through his damp hair and studied his reflection in the mirror.  He was shocked to see how tired he looked and pulling down one of his eyelids, he stared at his bloodshot eyes.  His hand then traveled down to the pink star shaped scar on his left shoulder and when he trailed a fingertip over the puckered skin, a shiver ran down his spine.  He could have died that day if it had not been for Dennis.  But through all the pain and trauma, it was that incident, those three bullets fired from the barrel of a gun by a demented teenager that had brought them together.  He wondered if they ever would have become romantically involved if Robbie Watkins had not tried to kill them.  The thought that he might never have known such intense, passionate love from the man who he was certain was his one true love was terrifying.  His soul had been set on fire and he could not imagine never feeling the spine tingling touch of Booker’s gentle fingers or seeing the tender devotion shining from his dark eyes as they lay side by side exploring each other’s bodies.  It had been a revelation and if he had lived his life never experiencing it, he would have died incomplete.

With those thoughts echoing in his mind, he walked into his bedroom and pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.  Entering the living room, he flopped down onto the couch and picked up the phone book and pen that lay on the seat next to him.  He turned to lift the phone receiver from its cradle and immediately saw the flashing light on his answering machine; he had a message.

Pressing play, he trailed the pen down the open page of the phone book in search of the next number to ring but his hand paused halfway down the page when he heard Joyce Booker’s voice through the machine’s speaker, _“Officer Hanson, it’s Joyce Booker.  I really need to speak… no, I need to apologize to you for my behavior at the hospital.  Dennis is in a bad way, he needs you.  Please call me on 555-8143 as soon as you get this message.  Thank you… oh and once again, I really am very sorry, I never should have kept you from seeing him.  I’ll be waiting for your call, goodbye.”_

Tom’s hand snatched up the receiver and his trembling finger dialed the number that was reverberating in his head.  His search was over.

**

Dennis lay on his bed with his eyes closed listening to the annoying banter of Wheel of Fortune on the television.  His dinner tray remained untouched, the smell of the meatloaf making him feel nauseous.  A nurse had offered to help him but he had been too embarrassed to let a stranger feed him and he had no real appetite anyway.  He wished someone would come and take the plate away, it was a constant reminder of his helplessness and closing his eyes was the only way he could shut out the visual of the uneaten food.

The sound of footsteps echoed outside his room and he screwed his eyelids tighter together and prayed that it was not his parents.  He did not want to listen to their constant meaningless platitudes; _nothing is impossible, it takes time, everything will be okay._   It was a constant barrage of encouraging bullshit that he could not cope with.  To him it _felt_ impossible, he did not _want_ it to take time and he sure as _hell_ did not think that everything would be okay.  He was drowning in a pit of despair and nobody understood his fears for the future.  He was twenty-three years old and he could no longer walk unaided or talk without sounding like a drunken old man.  His life as he once knew it was over.

When a gentle hand rested on his arm, he jumped involuntarily.  He had hoped to feign sleep but he had given himself away.  However, he kept his eyes closed in the faint hope that his visitor would take the hint and leave.  A moment passed and then he heard the voice that haunted his dreams, “Dennis it’s me.”

His eyes flew open and he gazed up into the anxious face of his lover.  The emotion of seeing Tom for the first time since his stroke completely overwhelmed him and he burst into tears, “You… came, you… _came_.”

Sitting down on the bed, Tom gathered Booker into his arms and held him close.  “I never left,” he murmured into his lover’s dark hair.  “I was outside your room at the hospital every single day.”

Dennis struggled to find his voice through the flood of emotion that wracked his body, “W-Why… didn’t… you… come… and… see… me?” 

More than anything, Tom wanted to tell Dennis the truth, that his mother had prevented him from having any contact.  However, he did not want to drive a wedge between Dennis and his parents and so he found a way to soften the blow.  “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all.  But I’m here now, I’m here.”

Booker relaxed into Tom’s protective embrace and he took pleasure from the gentle hand stroking his hair. Several minutes passed before he lifted his head and tried to smile.  However, the slight drooping of his mouth made it look more like a grimace and Tom struggled unsuccessfully to keep the pain he felt from showing in his eyes.  Booker’s eyes once again filled with tears and he turned his head away in embarrassment but immediately a gentle hand turned his head back and soft lips pressed against his mouth.  The tenderness of the kiss displayed all of Tom’s emotions, he did not care how Dennis looked, he loved him with all his heart.

When they finally broke apart, Tom smiled down at his lover, “I’ve been waiting to do that for days.”

Sighing contentedly, Dennis closed his eyes.  “Stay… with me,” he mumbled.

“Always,” Tom replied softly and he silently watched as his lover drifted into a peaceful sleep.  



	22. One Step at a Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Dennis lay on his bed with his eyes closed listening to the annoying banter of Wheel of Fortune on the television. His dinner tray remained untouched, the smell of the meatloaf making him feel nauseous. A nurse had offered to help him but he had been too embarrassed to let a stranger feed him and he had no real appetite anyway. He wished someone would come and take the plate away, it was a constant reminder of his helplessness and closing his eyes was the only way he could shut out the visual of the uneaten food._
> 
> _The sound of footsteps echoed outside his room and he screwed his eyelids tighter together and prayed that it was not his parents. He did not want to listen to their constant meaningless platitudes; nothing is impossible, it takes time, everything will be okay. It was a constant barrage of encouraging bullshit that he could not cope with. To him it felt impossible, he did not want it to take time and he sure as hell did not think that everything would be okay. He was drowning in a pit of despair and nobody understood his fears for the future. He was twenty-three years old and he could no longer walk unaided or talk without sounding like a drunken old man. His life as he once knew it was over._
> 
> _When a gentle hand rested on his arm, he jumped involuntarily. He had hoped to feign sleep but he had given himself away. However, he kept his eyes closed in the faint hope that his visitor would take the hint and leave. A moment passed and then he heard the voice that haunted his dreams, “Dennis it’s me.”_
> 
> _His eyes flew open and he gazed up into the anxious face of his lover. The emotion of seeing Tom for the first time since his stroke completely overwhelmed him and he burst into tears, “You… came, you… came.”_
> 
> _Sitting down on the bed, Tom gathered Booker into his arms and held him close. “I never left,” he murmured into his lover’s dark hair. “I was outside your room at the hospital every single day.”_
> 
> _Dennis struggled to find his voice through the flood of emotion that wracked his body, “W-Why… didn’t… you… come… and… see… me?”_
> 
> _More than anything, Tom wanted to tell Dennis the truth, that his mother had prevented him from having any contact. However, he did not want to drive a wedge between Dennis and his parents and so he found a way to soften the blow. “It was a misunderstanding, that’s all. But I’m here now, I’m here.”_
> 
> _Booker relaxed into Tom’s protective embrace and he took pleasure from the gentle hand stroking his hair. Several minutes passed before he lifted his head and tried to smile. However, the slight drooping of his mouth made it look more like a grimace and Tom struggled unsuccessfully to keep the pain he felt from showing in his eyes. Booker’s eyes once again filled with tears and he turned his head away in embarrassment but immediately a gentle hand turned his head back and soft lips pressed against his mouth. The tenderness of the kiss displayed all of Tom’s emotions, he did not care how Dennis looked, he loved him with all his heart._
> 
> _When they finally broke apart, Tom smiled down at his lover, “I’ve been waiting to do that for days.”_
> 
> _Sighing contentedly, Dennis closed his eyes. “Stay… with me,” he mumbled._
> 
> _“Always,” Tom replied softly and he silently watched as his lover drifted into a peaceful sleep._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590886280/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**One Step at a Time**  

Tom woke at dawn and after a long hot shower, he dressed and ate a nominal breakfast of several mouthfuls of leftover Chinese food.  It was too early to visit Booker so he sat on the couch and thought back to the previous night.  He had spent hours lying on the small bed with Booker resting in his arms and he had only left when a rather officious nurse threatened to call security.  Now, he was desperate to get back to see his lover and because it was a Sunday, they could spend the whole day together without interruption.

When he finally arrived at the private clinic, he felt his heart thumping in excitement as he strode down the quiet corridor.  It was important to him that Booker knew how much he loved him and that he would stand by him every step of the way, no matter how long his rehabilitation took.  He also needed him to know that those deep feelings would never change, even if Booker’s body never fully recovered.  It was an undeniable fact, he was hopelessly and passionately in love and nothing would or could ever alter that.

Walking into Booker’s private room, he pulled up short when he saw his lover lying on the bed with silent tears streaming down his face.  “Oh Dennis,” he murmured and hurrying over, he gathered him into his arms.  “What’s wrong?”

“E-E-Every-th-thing,” Dennis sobbed.  “I-I can’t sp-speak!  I c-can’t walk!  I c-can’t f-feel anything!”

Tom climbed onto the bed and lying down next to his distressed lover, he held him close and gently caressed his hair.  “You’ve got to be patient,” he soothed.  “Your rehabilitation has barely begun and—”

“D-Don’t give me … fucking… pl-platitudes!” Dennis slurred but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.  “You have… n-no… idea what… it’s l-like.”

“No I don’t,” Tom replied quietly, “but I’m here for you, whatever you need.  We’ll get through this together.”

A long silence hung in the air before Booker struggled out of Tom’s arms.  “What I need… is for you… to leave.”

Surprised by Dennis’ words, Tom sat up and gazed down at his friend.  “You want me to go?  Why?”

Dennis’ left hand clenched into a tight fist.  “Because you don’t… want to… be with… someone… like _me_ ,” he replied in a faltering voice.

Hanson narrowed his eyes and studied Dennis' face carefully.  He could see the look of determination but his troubled eyes told a different story.   They were full of panic and they reflected what he was really feeling deep inside his soul… fear.  Fear of the unknown, fear of what he knew lay ahead and fear of rejection.

Reaching out his hand, Tom uncurled Dennis’ fingers and gave them a squeeze.  “I’m a big boy Dennis, I think I can make up my own mind.”

Snatching his hand away, Booker struggled into a sitting position.  “You don’t… understand!” he cried out, his face twisting in anguish.  “I can’t… _FEEL_ anything… I’m IMPOTENT!”

The harshness of Dennis’ voice and the grotesqueness of his features startled Tom and his dark eyes portrayed his surprise.  It had never occurred to him that the stroke might have affected Dennis in _that_ way.  He quickly struggled to regain his composure but he knew it was too late, Dennis had seen the shocked look on his face.

Saddened by Tom’s reaction, Dennis averted his eyes and mumbled a single word.  “Leave.”

Swallowing deeply, Tom pulled himself together and reaching out a hand, he placed it under Dennis’ chin and tilted his face until their eyes met.  “No.”

Booker’s eyes clouded over and he swatted Tom’s hand away.  “I don’t want… you here,” he stated in a flat voice.

Staring back determinedly, Tom replied calmly, “Too bad, I’m staying.”

Blind rage consumed Booker’s body and his face turned red as he began to scream, “GET OUT!  GET OUT!  GET _OUT!”_ but when Hanson remained seated it eventually became too much for him and lifting his left arm, he slapped his lover across the face.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Tom’s hand flew to his cheek and his eyes widened in shock.  His face stung from the force of the slap but when he saw the distressed look in Booker’s eyes, he quickly forgot his pain.  

“Why won’t… you… leave?” Dennis sobbed.

The anguished look on his lover’s face caused a physical pain in Tom’s heart and gathering him into his arms, he held him close.  “Because I _love_ you,” he murmured against his ear.  “Don’t push me away Dennis, please don’t push me away.”

“But I’m… _broken_ ,” Booker whispered in a voice filled with anguish.

Despite the pain in his heart, Tom smiled and gave Dennis a tender kiss.  “Then we fix you, one step at a time.”

**

It seemed to Tom that the working day had lasted a lifetime but when the clock above the filing cabinets finally struck three, he pushed his chair back and hurried from the Chapel.  He had managed to convince Fuller that he had a doctor’s appointment but the truth was he was desperate to see Booker and find out what frame of mind he was in after his visit the day before.  The clinic classified Sundays as ‘family time’ and the only day when patients did not receive any form of treatment and therefore, he expected to find Dennis tired after hours of both physical and speech therapy.  However, he hoped Dennis had made some small progress and that his spirit would be lifted enough to want to keep on fighting through the frustration and pain.

Entering Dennis’ room, he immediately stopped when he saw him clutching a walking frame whilst attempting to drag his right foot across the floor, all under the watchful eye of a hard-faced woman.  As much as it pained him to witness the feeble attempt, he managed to keep the anguish out of his eyes.  It broke his heart to see his lover struggling like a toddler taking his first steps but he quickly pushed the negativity from his mind and feigned a cheerful smile.  “It looks like you’re working hard, I’ll come back in a minute.”

“No,” Booker replied immediately.  “I’m done.”

Mary Donaldson’s expression darkened.  “You’re done when _I_ say you’re done Dennis.  Now push the frame forward and take another step.”

“I SAID… I’M DONE!” Booker yelled and his body began to tremble with anger.  “Now help me… back… to my bed!”

Tom remained silent as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.  Mary placed her hands on her hips and gave her client a penetrating stare.  “And _I_ said push the frame forward and take another step.”

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, Tom stepped forward.  “I think he’s had enough.”

Mary gave him a derisive look.  “And _who_ are you?”

Balling his hands into tight fists, Tom struggled to contain his anger.  “I’m his boyfriend and I’m telling you, he’s had enough!”

Both Dennis’ and Mary’s eyes widened in surprise.  Dennis’ because it was the first time Tom had openly confessed that he was in a homosexual relationship and Mary because she never would have believed that Dennis was gay.  But Tom was too focused on his lover’s distress to realize the emotional impact his simple declaration had made and rushing forward he wrapped his arm around Dennis’ waist and slowly helped him the short distance back to his bed.  When he had him resting comfortably, he turned and faced Mary Donaldson.  “You can go now,” he instructed in a cold voice, “and close the door behind you.”

Somewhat taken aback by the frostiness of Tom’s tone, Mary placed the frame against the wall and walked towards the door.  Turning her head, she raised her eyebrows when she saw the two men lying in each other’s arms.  “I’ll be back again tomorrow.”

“I can’t… wait,” Booker mumbled sarcastically and when Mary left the room, he turned his head back towards Tom.  “Hey.”

Tom smiled and brushed his lips against Dennis’ pout.  “Hey yourself,” he murmured softly.  “Miss me?”

“Yeah,” Dennis sighed wearily.  “It’s been… a long… day.”

Lightly tracing his fingers down Booker’s side, Tom kissed him again.  “Can I do anything to help you relax?” he murmured against his lips.

Booker’s body froze and he pushed Tom’s hand away.  “Don’t.”

Propping himself up on his elbow, Hanson gazed down at his lover.  “Why not?” he asked softly.  “I thought if we spent some time together maybe you’d start to feel—”

“Aroused?” Booker spat back angrily.  “Is that… all… you care… about?”

Tom sighed.  “It’s nice to know you’re still jumping to conclusions.  I was going to say _more confident_.”

“Oh,” Booker mumbled.  “Sorry.”

A deafening silence echoed throughout the room until Tom finally spoke.  He chose his words carefully, not wanting to upset Dennis unnecessarily.  “But now that you’ve said it, maybe it’s _not_ such a stupid idea,” he pushed gently.  “If you relax and let me do all the work, maybe you’ll start to feel something.”

Another long silence hung in the air until Booker finally whispered in a trembling voice, “And if I don’t?”

Tom leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.  “Then we keep trying.”

Booker considered Tom’s words and after several long minutes, he nodded his head.  “Okay.”

Snuggling in close, Tom pressed his lips against Booker’s and kissed him tenderly.  He was delighted when his partner parted his lips and allowed his tongue access.  Keeping the kiss slow and tender, he placed his hand on Booker’s hip and moved his thumb in a slow, circular motion, hoping that the light stimulation would help him relax.  When he heard a low moan, he stretched out his fingers and lightly brushed them over the thin cotton material that covered Dennis’ genitals.  As their kiss deepened, his fingers continued to caress Dennis’ cock for several minutes but there was no reaction to his touch; his cock remained flaccid.  

Afraid that Booker’s embarrassment would prematurely end his efforts, he broke the kiss and sitting up, his eyes twinkled mischievously.  “I’ve got an idea.”

“What idea?” Booker asked slowly

Tom carefully straddled Booker’s legs and waggled his eyebrows theatrically.  “Any guesses?” he asked seductively.

Booker’s dark eyes widened in shock.  “Tommy… you’ve never… I mean… I don’t want you… to feel… you have—”

Pressing his finger against Dennis’ lips, Tom gave him a loving smile.  “Shh, I _want_ to.  So just close your eyes and relax.”

Booker continued to stare up at Tom for several long moments before slowly closing his eyes.  Tom attempted to control his nerves and with shaky hands, he gently pulled down Dennis’ boxers, revealing his limp cock.  Leaning forward, he supported himself with his left hand and lowering his head, he pressed his lips against Booker’s cockhead.  

A soft moan escaped Dennis’ lips and encouraged by the reaction, Tom grew bolder.  Swirling his tongue around the coronal ridge he gently took hold of the base of Dennis’ shaft and sucked on the tip.  Tender fingers ran through his hair and he heard a soft voice.  “More.”

Smiling to himself, he parted his lips and took Dennis’ into his mouth.  The feeling was strange but not unpleasant and he started to relax.  Applying a small amount of pressure with his lips, he moved his mouth up and down Dennis’ flaccid cock.  A minute passed and he suddenly felt movement against his tongue and he realized that Dennis was slowly becoming hard.  He continued his exploration, stopping only to suck on the tip before again taking Dennis’ growing cock back into his mouth.  When his lover was fully erect, he could taste precum and his own cock swelled as the salty juices coated his tongue.  Spurred on by his own arousal, he increased his pace and as his head bobbed up and down, he could feel rough fingers pulling at his hair and then Dennis’ loud voice suddenly cut through the silence.  “Oh fuck… oh Tommy… ahhh… ahhh… _AHHH!”_

Warm salty fluid shot down the back of Tom’s throat and fighting to control his gag reflex, he swallowed deeply.  Once again, the taste was strange but not revolting and he smiled against Booker’s softening cock.  He had given his first blowjob and it had been a success.

Lifting his head, he ignored his own aching erection and grinned at his lover.  “Better?” he asked in a teasing voice.

Dennis returned a lopsided smile.  “Yeah,” he murmured.  “You were… fucking… amazing.”

A deep blush heated Tom’s face and as he pulled up Dennis’ boxers, he heard a soft laugh.  “God Hanson… it’s still so easy… to embarrass you.”

Tom positioned himself on the bed next to Dennis and draped an arm around his waist.  “Yeah well, what can I say?  I’m a choir boy.”

Once again, the sound of Dennis’ laughter echoed around the room and Tom smiled contentedly.  It was a step forward in his lover’s recovery and he hoped that each day, it would get a little easier.  



	23. One Step Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Booker continued to stare up at Tom for several long moments before slowly closing his eyes. Tom attempted to control his nerves and with shaky hands, he gently pulled down Dennis’ boxers, revealing his limp cock. Leaning forward, he supported himself with his left hand and lowering his head, he pressed his lips against Booker’s cockhead._
> 
> _A soft moan escaped Dennis’ lips and encouraged by the reaction, Tom grew bolder. Swirling his tongue around the coronal ridge he gently took hold of the base of Dennis’ shaft and sucked on the tip. Tender fingers ran through his hair and he heard a soft voice. “More.”_
> 
> _Smiling to himself, he parted his lips and took Dennis’ into his mouth. The feeling was strange but not unpleasant and he started to relax. Applying a small amount of pressure with his lips, he moved his mouth up and down Dennis’ flaccid cock. A minute passed and he suddenly felt movement against his tongue and he realized that Dennis was slowly becoming hard. He continued his exploration, stopping only to suck on the tip before again taking Dennis’ growing cock back into his mouth. When his lover was fully erect, he could taste precum and his own cock swelled as the salty juices coated his tongue. Spurred on by his own arousal, he increased his pace and as his head bobbed up and down, he could feel rough fingers pulling at his hair and then Dennis’ loud voice suddenly cut through the silence. “Oh fuck… oh Tommy… ahhh… ahhh… AHHH!”_
> 
> _Warm salty fluid shot down the back of Tom’s throat and fighting to control his gag reflex, he swallowed deeply. Once again, the taste was strange but not revolting and he smiled against Booker’s softening cock. He had given his first blowjob and it had been a success._
> 
> _Lifting his head, he ignored his own aching erection and grinned at his lover. “Better?” he asked in a teasing voice._
> 
> _Dennis returned a lopsided smile. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You were… fucking… amazing.”_
> 
> _A deep blush heated Tom’s face and as he pulled up Dennis’ boxers, he heard a soft laugh. “God Hanson… it’s still so easy… to embarrass you.”_
> 
> _Tom positioned himself on the bed next to Dennis and draped an arm around his waist. “Yeah well, what can I say? I’m a choir boy.”_
> 
> _Once again, the sound of Dennis’ laughter echoed around the room and Tom smiled contentedly. It was a step forward in his lover’s recovery and he hoped that each day, it would get a little easier._

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35590886170/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**One Step Closer**

_Four weeks later_

Tom entered Booker’s room and a huge smile lit up his face when he saw his lover walking out of the bathroom using only a cane for support.  “Hey, look at you!” he exclaimed happily.  “When did you stop using the frame?”

An embarrassed smile twitched at Booker’s lips.  “I wanted to surprise you,” he replied quietly.  “They said once I could walk with a cane, I could go home with you, you know, just for a few hours.”

Tom’s eyes danced with excitement and rushing forward, he wrapped his arms around Booker and pulling him close, he squeezed his butt cheeks.  “When?” he murmured against his lips.  “Because I can’t wait to get you in our bed.  I miss you.”

A loud _ahem_ abruptly pulled them apart and turning around, they saw Joyce Booker standing in the doorway, her dark eyes narrowed into slits and her mouth set in a firm, disapproving line.

Dennis ran a nervous hand over his mouth.   “Mom, I thought you and Dad weren’t visiting until tonight,” he mumbled as his eyes flittered anxiously between his lover and his mother.  When Joyce did not reply, he motioned towards Tom.  “Um, this is my boyfriend T—”

“We’ve met,” Joyce replied quietly, her eyes refusing to meet Tom’s gaze.  “So am I hearing this right Denny?  You’d rather spend your home visit with Tom than with your family?”

Shocked by his mother’s rudeness, Booker shuffled over to the bed and sat down heavily. “Mom don’t,” he pleaded in a trembling voice.  

Although surprised by Joyce’s attitude, Tom decided to play peacemaker.  Sitting down next to Booker, he placed an arm around his shoulders and gave them a squeeze.  “It’s okay Dennis.  You _should_ go home with your parents for a visit.  You can come to me next time.”

Since his stroke, Dennis struggled to control his emotions and tears spilled from his tortured eyes.  “N-No!” he cried and burying his face against his lover’s chest, his body heaved as he sobbed uncontrollably.  “I w-want to go h-home with y-you!”

Tom felt a physical pain in his heart and placing a hand under Booker’s chin, he gently tilted up his face so that their eyes met.  “And I _want_ you to come home with me,” he murmured softly and leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Dennis’ tear stained cheek, “but we’ve got the rest of our lives to spend together.  One day isn’t going to make a difference. ”

“He's right Denny," Joyce replied.  “One day won't make a difference.  We want you home with us."

Booker swiped at his tears.  “And I want to go home with Tom.  Why can't you accept that?  I thought you supported my choices.”

Joyce stared back at her son in surprise.  “I do support you,” she replied softly, “but seeing you struggling every day is difficult for all of us.  I love you and I’m trying to protect you.”

Entwining his fingers in Tom’s, Booker lifted up their hands.  “ _Tom_ protects me,” he whispered, “he’s my world mom… he’s my everything.  Please try to understand.  I love him.”

Tears filled Joyce’s eyes and swallowing deeply, she nodded her head.  “I understand perfectly,” she muttered.  “You don’t need me anymore, not now that you have Tom.”

Dennis sighed heavily and using his cane for support, he struggled to his feet and walked slowly over to his mother.  Laying a hand on her shoulder, he looked deep into her teary eyes.  “Don’t make me choose between the two of you,” he murmured softly, "because you’ll lose.”

Joyce’s eyes widened in shock.  “Denny!” she exclaimed.  “Why are you being so hurtful?  I’m your mother, I raised you!  Don’t push me away when I’m only trying to help you!”

Although his body was shaking, Booker’s expression remained impassive.  “This isn't about wanting to protect me.  When you walked in and saw us together, you couldn't handle it.  You _say_ you're supportive but in the cold light of day, you hate that I have a boyfriend.  But I'm telling you mom, until you can accept that Tom and I are in a relationship, I won’t be coming to visit.  Not now, not ever.”

Having maintained his silence long enough, Tom stood up and walked over to Dennis.  He smiled at his lover and placed a reassuring arm around his waist before turning his attention to Joyce.  “Mrs. Booker, we got off on the wrong foot but we have something in common; we both love Dennis and we don’t want to see him hurting.  So please, can you at least try and accept that we're together?”

Joyce dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.  “You’re my son’s _boyfriend_ Officer Hanson, so I’m guessing I don’t have a choice.”

Dennis angrily slammed the end of his cane against the floor.  “MOM!” he yelled.  “STOP!  JUST STOP!  WHY ARE YOU TREATING TOM THIS WAY?”

Tom could feel Dennis’ body trembling with rage and he finally lost his temper.  Stepping forward, he spoke to Joyce through gritted teeth, “You need to leave, you’re upsetting him."

If Tom’s protectiveness surprised her, Joyce Booker did not show it and ignoring him completely, she gave Dennis a peck on the cheek.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dennis’ knuckles whitened as he tightened his grasp on the handle of his cane.  “You know I’m going home with Tom tomorrow,” he replied tersely.  “So stop playing these games.”

Dark eyes met dark eyes and Tom watched as mother and son glared defiantly at each other.  Eventually, Joyce lowered her gaze and turning away, she walked from the room.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked quietly.

Booker’s eyes filled with sadness.  “She can be manipulative."  He paused for a moment before asking, "Did she prevent you from seeing me at the hospital?"

Not wanting to lie to his lover any longer, Tom nodded.  “Yeah she did.  But give her time Dennis, she’ll come around eventually.  It's been tough on her, dealing with everything that's happened to you."

Wrapping an arm around Tom’s waist, Booker pulled him close and kissed him tenderly.  “I meant what I said.  If she makes me choose, she’ll lose me forever.”

Tom’s lips twitched into a half smile but inside, he felt responsible for driving a wedge between mother and son.

**

_The following day_

Turning the key in the lock, Tom pushed open Booker’s apartment door and stepped back.  “Home sweet home.”

Dennis smiled and walked inside.  For the first time in six weeks, he almost felt like his old self.  His recovery was taking time but it was happening.  His speech almost sounded normal, the cane had permanently replaced his walking frame and every day he felt the strength slowly returning to his arm and leg.  It was a relief that he was now able to do most things for himself and he could finally see light at the end of the very long, dark tunnel, the tunnel that had trapped his body in a state of immobility.  Every small achievement was a huge accomplishment for him but he was determined to push himself even harder so that one day, he would be able to walk unaided and return to the job he loved.  It had been a slow process but he was finally moving forward.

However, it was Tom’s patient affections that had eased his greatest fear and knowing that he could achieve an orgasm was a huge weight off his mind.  He had been terrified that he would remain impotent, but since their encounter in his room a month ago, Tom had relieved his sexual needs on an almost daily basis.  Having experienced the terrifying panic of losing the ability to obtain an erection, he could not get enough sexual stimulation.  The sight of Tom’s tussled hair bobbing up and down in front of him as he sucked him off was intoxicating.  He had achieved some of his most mind-blowing orgasms ever and now that they were truly alone, with no fear of someone walking in on them, he wanted to return the favor.   He yearned to trace his fingers over his lover’s body and feel his cock growing beneath his tender touch before bringing him to an explosive climax.  Tom’s body was his temple and he wanted to worship it.

Sitting down on the couch, he let out a contented sigh.  He was tired but happy and it felt good to be back in familiar surroundings.  Leaning against the cushions, he closed his eyes and relaxed his body.  He was one step closer to leaving the clinic forever.  He was one step closer to coming home.

He felt the couch cushion next to him depress and opening his eyes, he smiled wearily at the man he adored.  “Hey,” he muttered softly.

Tom reached out and brushed Dennis’ hair from his eyes.  “You look tired.  Maybe going out for lunch was too much for your first outing.”

Dennis sighed.  “Maybe,” he admitted.  “I’ve been so used to spending time alone, I guess the noise was a little overwhelming.”

“Sorry,” Tom replied quietly.  “I didn’t think of that.  We should have eaten here.”

Booker shook his head back and forth.  “No, I enjoyed it, but it’s nice to be just you and me.”

“Yeah it is,” Tom murmured.  “But you look worn out.  Do you want to lie down for a bit?”

“Only if you lie with me,” Booker replied softly.

Hot desire ran through Tom’s body but he quickly pushed the feeling away.  Booker needed his rest and he would not be responsible for him suffering any setbacks.  Taking hold of his hand, he stood up.  “C’mon, you look dead on your feet.”

Leaning heavily on his cane, Dennis stood up and followed Tom into the bedroom.  He sat down on the bed and gazed down at his lover as he carefully removed his shoes and socks.  When Tom lifted his head, he reached out and touched his face.  “Stay with me.”

Tom’s eyes clouded over.  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea Dennis,” he replied quietly.  “You need to sleep.”

Booker’s lower lip pushed into a soft pout.  “I don’t want to sleep, I want to play with you.”

Tom’s pupils dilated and a soft moan escaped his lips.  “Dennis…”

“Please,” Booker whispered, his dark eyes imploring with Tom to understand his needs.  “I haven’t touched you in so long.  I miss you.”

The thought of Dennis’ fingers exploring his body sent a shiver of excitement down Tom’s spine and when his cock twitched to life, he knew he was weakening.  He missed his lover’s tender touch and he longed to feel the caress of a hand other than his own.  “Okay,” he murmured and standing up he kicked off his boots and slowly undressed.  

Booker’s eyes roamed hungrily over Tom's toned body.  “God, I’d forgotten how gorgeous you are.”

When Tom’s face immediately flushed pink, he chuckled softly.  “Some things never change,” he joked and lying down on the bed, he patted the mattress beside him.  “Come here beautiful."

Tom’s arousal was already evident and moving forward, he lay down next to his lover.  “Kiss me,” he whispered.

Wrapping an arm around Tom’s waist, Booker pulled him in close and kissed him tenderly.  Tom’s fingers fumbled with the zipper of his jeans but he playfully slapped the hand away.  “Nuh uh,” he admonished in a teasing tone, “you've been pleasuring me for weeks.  I want you to lie back and enjoy this.”

Even though Tom ached to be touched, he was worried about Dennis’ physical wellbeing.  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked quietly.

Booker pulled away and glared at his lover.  “Do you think I’m too _disabled_ to satisfy you?”

Tom immediately realized his mistake and gathering Dennis in his arms, he nuzzled against his neck.  “Of course not,” he murmured.  “You’re the strongest man I know.”

Flopping back against the pillow, Dennis ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little defensive about… my disabilities.  I _know_ I’m not the man I used to be and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be again.”

Snuggling in closer, Tom pressed his lips against Dennis’ pout.  “Of course you’re defensive,” he murmured softly.  “Who wouldn’t be?  But I love you Dennis, not your physique, not your athleticism… _you_.  You’re the most resilient man I’ve ever met and I’m almost certain that you’ll beat this.  But if you don’t, it doesn’t matter because to me, you’re still the same man I fell in love with.”

Tears filled Booker’s eyes and he quickly wiped them away.  “You’ll still love me even if I can’t stop crying?” he joked halfheartedly.

Tom grinned impishly and taking hold of Dennis’ hand, he pushed it down towards his erection.  “Only if you make me come,” he whispered, his dark eyes black with arousal. 

Booker moaned and pushing Tom onto his back, he clambered awkwardly down the bed.  Bending up Tom’s knees, he knelt between his open legs.  “Oh baby,” he sighed, “you are so fucking beautiful.”

This time, the compliment had no impact on Tom.  He was beyond feeling any embarrassment, all he yearned for was the light caress of Dennis’ fingers against his skin.  “Touch me,” he moaned.

Dropping to all fours, Booker brushed his lips against Tom’s.   “Can I use my finger?”

Tom’s eyes flickered with desire.  “Yes… _God_ yes,” he breathed.  “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Dennis drew in a sharp intake of breath.  More than anything, he wanted to consummate their relationship and for him, there was no better time than now.  He wanted to feel whole, to feel like the man he had once been.  But most of all, he wanted to love Tom in every sense of the word.  He wanted to give him a piece of himself, he wanted to enter his body and shower him with an explosive pleasure that he had never felt before because then and only then, would they be truly connected, bound together forever by an act of pure love.

Gazing, deep into his lover’s eyes, he uttered the words that would ultimately transform their relationship.  “I… I want to make love to you Tommy.”

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise and he began to chew furiously on his lower lip.  Seconds ticked by and Booker sat back on his heels and let out a sigh.  “You don’t want to,” he stated in a flat voice tinged with hurt.  “That’s okay, forget I said anything.”

When the shock of Dennis’ words finally faded, Tom rubbed a trembling hand over his mouth.  “I… _Wow!_ I didn’t…   _Shit!_   I didn’t expect that,” he stammered awkwardly.  

Booker turned away and stared miserably at the floor and when Tom caught sight of his lover’s profile and the sorrow etched on his beautiful face, he made his decision.  He did not make it because he felt guilty and he did not make it because he felt pressured.  He made it because deep in his heart, he knew his love for Dennis was more profound than any love he had ever felt before and he wanted to experience that ultimate level of intimacy with him.  Dennis was his soul mate and after living through the fear and heartache of the last few months, they had reached a definitive point in their relationship.  They had been through so much together and he knew it was time.  He wanted to feel Dennis moving inside him, he wanted to surrender himself completely so that their souls could merge as one.

Reaching out a hand, he gently cupped Booker’s face and turned it towards him.  When their eyes locked, he felt a charge of electricity jolt through his body and he knew he had made the right decision.  Gazing up at his lover, he immediately forgot everything he was about to say and only one word tumbled from his lips.  “Yes.”

Booker’s eyes grew large and his heart began to pound in his chest.  “Tommy,” he gasped.  “I-I—”

“Shh,” Tom murmured and placing his hand behind Booker’s neck, he pulled him forward and kissed him tenderly.  When they broke apart, he finally found the words that were beating in his heart.  “I _love_ you Dennis Booker and I want to know what it feels like to _be_ loved by you.  I want to be consumed by you, to be as one with you and I want to do it now… right now… because never again will there be a more perfect moment for us to come together.”

Tears spilled from Dennis’ eyes and slowly trickled down his face.  “Oh baby,” he whispered.  “You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

Tom reached out and brushed the tears from Dennis’ face.  “Make love to me.”

After stripping off his clothing, Dennis opened his bedside drawer and took out a condom and the tube of lubrication and placing them on the bed, he smiled down at Tom.  “First I want to taste you,” he breathed and ducking his head, he took his time exploring Tom’s body with his mouth. He licked and sucked up and down his torso and his cock began to swell as he felt his lover squirming beneath him.  Moving lower down the bed, he flicked his tongue over Tom’s cockhead and when he heard a soft cry of pleasure from above, he grinned to himself.  He knew what Tom liked and running his tongue over his lips, he pressed them lightly against the bulbous tip.  He felt Tom’s body arch off the bed and when eager fingers tangled in his hair, he darted out his tongue and licked around the coronal ridge.

“Again,” Tom moaned and his eyes fluttered closed.  “Oh Dennis, kiss it again.”

The passion in Tom’s voice pushed Booker to another level and his cock instantly became erect.  The sensation was unlike any he had ever experienced.  Never before had his body reacted to just the sound of a lover’s voice and he knew he needed to control himself or it would all be over before they had even begun.

Lifting his head, he gazed down at Tom’s rapturous expression and another smile graced his lips.  “God you make me horny,” he groaned.

Tom peered up through hooded lids.  “Why are you stopping?” he teased flirtatiously.

Booker laughed softly.  “Cheeky,” he admonished in a low voice and leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Tom’s seductive pout.  “I’m pacing myself.”

Closing his eyes again, Tom moaned in frustration.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Oh God,” Booker groaned and he knew he could not wait any longer.  He was rock hard and there was a very real chance that Tom’s voice alone would bring him to climax.  Grabbing the tube of lubrication, he coated his finger and placed it against Tom’s puckered hole.  “Ready?” he breathed.

Tom nodded and as Dennis’ fingertip entered his body, he let out a soft moan.  “Yes… oh _yesss_.”

Dennis gently worked his finger in and out, expertly relaxing the tight wall of muscle.  When he gained full access, he gazed down at his lover.  “Put the condom on me.”

He watched excitedly as Tom picked up the square package, ripped it open and rolled the prophylactic onto his erect cock.  Carefully withdrawing his finger, he leaned forward and supporting himself on one arm, he used his free hand to guide the tip of his cock until it pressed against Tom’s opening.  His lover’s dark, trusting eyes penetrated his soul.  “God I love you.”

Tom could wait no longer and gripping hold of Dennis’ forearms, he wrapped his legs around his waist and he gazed up into his jet black eyes.  “Make me yours,” he whispered.

Dennis let out a moan of pleasure and pushing inside Tom’s body, he felt the tight muscles envelop him.  Taking a deep breath, he began to rock his hips slowly backwards and forwards.

Tom’s eyes fluttered closed and his head arched backwards.  “Harder,” he instructed in a breathless voice.  “Harder!”

Shifting his position, Dennis increased his pace.  Tom’s eyes flew open and his nails dug into the tender flesh of Dennis’ arm.  “There!” he gasped.  “Oh Dennis... oh God… oh God!”

“Do you like that baby?” Dennis asked, his black eyes dancing with excitement as he thrust deeper inside Tom’s body.

“Yes… yes… yes…” Tom panted, his head arching back against the pillow.  “Oh fuck!  It feels so… oh fuck!”

Looking down at Tom’s euphoric expression, Dennis knew he would not last much longer and he began to thrust harder.  “Are you gonna come for me baby?” 

“Oh God!” Tom gasped.   “I wanna… I wanna… oh God!”

Dennis immediately increased his pace.  “Come for me,” he moaned.  “I wanna see you come.”

“Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh…” Tom cried.  “I’m coming… oh God Dennis, I’m _COMMMING!”_

Tom’s juices exploded from within and coated his taut stomach.  The sight was so erotic it pushed Dennis towards his own climax and with a yell, he ejaculated forcefully into the protective sheath covering his cock.  Without warning, his arms gave way and collapsing on top of Tom, he found his mouth and kissed him hungrily as their bodies continued to shudder out their release.  Gradually they slowed their kiss and as the post orgasmic calm engulfed them, Dennis withdrew his cock and let out a contented sigh.

Tom gently pushed Booker onto the mattress.  “Fuck,” he grinned.  “That was amazing.”

Dennis grinned back.  “At least now I know I can perform.”

Reaching out, Tom brushed Dennis’ hair from his eyes.  “I thought we’d already establish that,” he murmured softly.

A pink blush stained Booker’s already flushed cheeks.  “Yeah, but I didn’t know if I’d have the mobility to…”  He ducked his head in embarrassment.  “Pretty stupid huh?”

“Not really,” Tom replied quietly.  “Every day you achieve another goal and I imagine this one was the one that wins the game.”

Dennis wrapped his arm around Tom’s waist and snuggled in close.  “You’ve got that right,” he murmured sleepily.

Tom looked at the clock and gently stroked Dennis hair.  “Go to sleep,” he whispered.  “I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”

“Don’t… wanna… go,” Booker muttered drowsily and closing his eyes, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.  



	24. Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Well, this is it, the final chapter.  For those of you who have read this story right through until the very end, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.**
> 
> **Please feel free to leave me a comment; good, bad or indifferent, all feedback is welcome and I hope you will continue to read my tales as I post them.**
> 
> **Thanks again.  Without you there would be no stories.**
> 
> **In peace,**   
>  **Openpage x**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: “Do you like that baby?” Dennis asked, his black eyes dancing with excitement as he thrust deeper inside Tom’s body._
> 
> _“Yes… yes… yes…” Tom panted, his head arching back against the pillow. “Oh fuck! It feels so… oh fuck!”_
> 
> _Looking down at Tom’s euphoric expression, Dennis knew he would not last much longer and he began to thrust harder. “Are you gonna come for me baby?”_
> 
> _“Oh God!” Tom gasped. “I wanna… I wanna… oh God!”_
> 
> _Dennis immediately increased his pace. “Come for me,” he moaned. “I wanna see you come.”_
> 
> _“Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh…” Tom cried. “I’m coming… oh God Dennis, I’m COMMMING!”_
> 
> _Tom’s juices exploded from within and coated his taut stomach. The sight was so erotic it pushed Dennis towards his own climax and with a yell, he ejaculated forcefully into the protective sheath covering his cock. Without warning, his arms gave way and collapsing on top of Tom, he found his mouth and kissed him hungrily as their bodies continued to shudder out their release. Gradually they slowed their kiss and as the post orgasmic calm engulfed them, Dennis withdrew his cock and let out a contented sigh._
> 
> _Tom gently pushed Booker onto the mattress. “Fuck,” he grinned. “That was amazing.”_
> 
> _Dennis grinned back. “At least now I know I can perform.”_
> 
> _Reaching out, Tom brushed Dennis’ hair from his eyes. “I thought we’d already establish that,” he murmured softly._
> 
> _A pink blush stained Booker’s already flushed cheeks. “Yeah, but I didn’t know if I’d have the mobility to…” He ducked his head in embarrassment. “Pretty stupid huh?”_
> 
> _“Not really,” Tom replied quietly. “Every day you achieve another goal and I imagine this one was the one that wins the game.”_
> 
> _Dennis wrapped his arm around Tom’s waist and snuggled in close. “You’ve got that right,” he murmured sleepily._
> 
> _Tom looked at the clock and gently stroked Dennis hair. “Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”_
> 
> _“Don’t… wanna… go,” Booker muttered drowsily and closing his eyes, he drifted into a peaceful sleep.  
> _

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35809208522/in/album-72157683614713094/)

**Coming Out**

_12 days later_

The brief home visit fueled Dennis’ desire to leave the clinic and over the next week, he pushed himself to the point of exhaustion.  He did everything Mary Donaldson asked of him and he did it without complaint.  More than anything, he wanted to prove to her that he was no longer the broken man who had arrived at the facility seven weeks before.  He was strong, he was determined and he wanted to start living his life again.  He was once again, Dennis Booker.

Glancing up at the wall clock, he stood up and using his cane for support, he started to pace his room.  All his hard work and determination had led to this very point in time; he was going home for good and he and Tom could finally start to live life as a couple.  The only downside was that they could not do it openly.  But he knew he needed to exercise patience and not push Tom before he was ready to _come out_.  He was able bodied enough now to return to his apartment alone and he knew Tom would always be there if he needed help.  However, he hoped that in time, Tom would feel comfortable enough to tell his family and friends about their relationship and then they could start living like a real couple.

Hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor and turning around, he smiled as Tom burst through the partially closed door.  “You almost took the door off its hinges,” he chuckled.  “I thought I was the only one who was excited that I’m going home.”

Tom stopped dead in his tracks and sadness filled his dark eyes.  Worried by his expression, Dennis hobbled over and placed a hand on his cheek.  “Hey,” he murmured, “what’s wrong?”

“I let you down,” Tom muttered, “and I just realized that I never apologized to you.”

Booker’s smooth brow knitted together.  “I don’t understand.  What do you mean you let me down?”

Tom’s eyes misted over.  “In the basement, I couldn’t get the hinges off the door and maybe if I’d tried harder, I could have escaped and you would have received medical treatment and—”

“Whoa,” Booker interrupted quietly and leaning forward, he pressed his lips against Tom’s.  “None of what happened to me is your fault.  I’ve never blamed you Tommy, I know you did everything you could to get us out.”

“But it wasn’t enough,” Tom whispered.

Warm fingers entwined in his own and he allowed his lover to lead him over to the bed.  When they sat down, he cast his eyes down at the floor, unable to meet his lover’s gaze, until a gentle hand tilted up his chin.  When his eyes met Dennis’, he knew in his heart that there was no animosity but he also knew he would carry his own guilt inside forever.

“Don’t do this,” Booker murmured softly.  “Not today.  This is the beginning of the rest of our lives.  You should be happy.”

Tom sighed and managed a small smile.  “I _am_ happy.  I guess the word _hinge_ just triggered a reaction and I realized I should have apologized to you a long time ago.”

Bending forward, Dennis kissed Tom tenderly.  “I don’t want your apology,” he whispered.  “I want you to take me home.”

A genuine smile graced Tom’s lips.  “That I can do.”

**

Exiting his bedroom after a light nap, Booker saw Tom standing at the window gazing out at the light rain that drizzled from the leaden sky.  The apartment was dark and cold and he wondered why Tom had not switched on the lights.  Shuffling over to the window, he placed an arm around his lover’s waist.  “Penny for ‘em.”

Tom turned around in surprise.  “Huh?”

Booker smiled lovingly.  “Your thoughts.  What’s troubling you Tommy?  You’re not still feeling guilty about the basement?”

Although he was, Tom shook his head.  “No.  Not really.  It’s just… well, I think we need to talk.”

A chill ran through Booker’s body and his heart began to pound in his chest.  “About?” he asked in a shaky voice.

Hearing the fear in Booker’s tone, Tom wrapped his arms around his waist and gave him a tight squeeze.  “Jesus Dennis, I didn’t mean to frighten you.  It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

Booker pulled away and walking over to the door, he flicked on the light switch.  A soft light illuminated the room and turning around, he studied his lover’s face.  “So what is it?” he asked in a cold voice.  “Because when someone says _we need to talk_ , it usually means they want to break up.”

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.  “ _What?”_ he exclaimed.  “Jesus Christ Dennis, NO!  That’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?” Booker asked flatly.  “Come on Tommy, spell it out for me ‘cause I guess the stroke has affected my ability to understand _what_ you mean.”

Sadness filled Tom’s heart and moving forward, he took hold of Dennis’ hand.  “Don’t,” he pleaded softly.  “I’m sorry if you misunderstood me but I don’t want to fight.  Not on your first day home.”

Seeing the sadness in his lover’s eyes, Booker immediately felt a pang of guilt.  Once again he had jumped to conclusions without letting Tom explain himself.  Although it was comforting to know that some aspects of his personality had not been affected by the stroke, he knew he needed to learn to control his impetuous nature and give people a chance to explain before he immediately assumed the worst.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he gave Tom an apologetic smile.  “No, _I’m_ sorry.  I need to stop being such a hothead.  So what did you want to talk to me about?”

Tom rubbed a nervous hand over his mouth.  “I… I think it’s time I came out.”

If Tom had just announced that he wanted to become an astronaut, Dennis did not think he could have been any more surprised.  For the longest moment, he remained speechless, until finally finding his voice.  “Are you sure?”

A half smile played over Tom’s lips.  “Yeah, I’m sure.  I’m going to phone my mom right now and give her the news.”

Booker gently maneuvered Tom backwards until his back pressed against the wall.  “Oh baby,” he murmured against his lips, “you've made my day.”

Tom encircled his arms around Booker’s waist and clutching hold of his buttocks, he drew him in close and kissed him deeply.  The sound of Booker’s cane dropping to the floor echoed around the apartment and moments later, he felt a hard mound grinding against him.  His cock immediately swelled and moaning softly, he increased the friction between their groins.

Booker gently pulled away and gazing into his lover’s eyes, he smiled seductively.  “I think telling your mom is gonna be _very_ stressful.  Is there anything I can do first to help you relax?”

Tom’s eyes glinted with excitement and pulling Dennis towards him, he murmured against his mouth, “Suck me.”

A slow grin formed on Dennis’ lips as his fingers popped the button of Tom’s jeans.  Tom gazed back at him, his dilated pupils making his brown eyes appear black.  As gentle fingers carefully pulled down the zipper, he let out a moan of excitement.  His jeans fell to his ankles and he held his breath, waiting for the touch that he knew was about to come.  He did not have to wait long before delicate fingers caressed his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers and closing his eyes, he squeezed Booker’s butt cheeks.  “Yes,” he breathed.  “Oh _yes_.”

Booker carefully dropped to his knees and leaning forward he lightly mouthed over the large bulge tenting Tom’s boxers.  Tom’s hips thrust forward and gentle fingers tugged at his hair, urging him on.  He continued to toy with his lover, kissing and sucking his growing erection through the soft fabric, wanting him to plead for more contact.  

After several minutes of teasing, Tom could take it no more.  “Dennis,” he gasped, as his legs began to tremble.  “Please!”

Smiling to himself, Dennis raised his eyes and gazed up at his lover.  “Do you want more baby?” he asked softly.

“Yes!” Tom groaned and his hands tugged roughly at Dennis’ dark hair.  “More… more!”

Booker hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of Tom’s shorts and slowly lowered them to the ground.  He moaned softly when he saw Tom’s erection lying almost flat against his taught stomach, the tip already glistening with precum.  Licking his lips, he wrapped his fingers around the base and ducking forward, he ran his tongue up the length of the long shaft.  He felt Tom’s body shudder with delight and eager hands pulled him forward, silently begging for more.  He pressed his mouth against the weeping tip, savoring the taste when he licked the salty juice from his lips.

“Again… again… again,” Tom panted as his arousal intensified.  “Don’t stop… please don’t stop!”  Moments later, a hot moist mouth enveloped him, swallowing him whole.  The sensation completely overwhelmed his senses and his head smacked against the wall. “FUCK!” he yelled as he thrust his hips violently forward.  “Oh _FUCK!”_

When Tom’s cock slammed against the back of his throat, Booker began to gag but he was experienced at giving blowjobs and he quickly gained control and keeping hold of the base of Tom’s cock, he ran his mouth up and down the erect shaft.  Tom’s hips continued to rock forwards and backwards and eventually he relaxed his throat and let him fuck his mouth.  He could hear soft grunting noises from above and using his free hand, he gently began to tug at Tom’s testicles.  When the grunting became a loud moan, he knew his lover was close and pressing down with his lips, he began to hum.

Tom’s thrusting became frantic and long fingers ripped at his hair.  “YES!  YES!  YES!” he yelled as his buttocks slammed back and forth against the wall behind him.  “Oh fuck… oh fuck… OH _FUUUCK!”_

Warm salty semen shot down the back of Dennis’ throat and fumbling with his zipper, he reached inside his jeans and with three swift tugs, he brought himself to climax.  As Tom’s cock softened in his mouth, he continued to suck as his fingers toyed with his own dying erection.  Minutes later, he felt strong hands guiding him upwards and staggering to his feet, he sought out his lover’s mouth and kissed him lovingly.  They stood for a long time, just holding each other and enjoying the salty taste of semen as it transferred from one tongue to the other.

When they eventually pulled apart, Tom brushed Dennis’ hair from his eyes and smiled.  “It’s time.”

**

Tom put down the phone and gave Dennis a sad smile.  “I think your mom and my mom should get together and have coffee.”

Dennis got up from the dining table and walked over to his lover.  “I gather it didn’t go well.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Tom let out a sigh.  “It went as well as to be expected.  She’s shocked and upset and she thinks I’m going to hell.”

Wrapping his arms around Tom, Dennis held him close.  “Yeah, I’m sure there’s some club they can join,” he joked halfheartedly.

Tom laid his cheek against Dennis’ chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat.  Minutes ticked by before he slowly lifted his head and gave the man he loved a warm smile.  “You know what?  Screw ‘em.  I don’t give a fuck what they think.”

Dennis thought about Tom’s words for a moment before asking the question that had been nagging at his mind.  “So now that your mom knows, are you going to tell Doug and the others?”

Now that he had made the decision, Tom knew that there was no going back and he nodded his head.  “Next week’s the Mayor’s annual party.  I’ll tell them then.”

Booker’s eyes sparkled with happiness.  In seven days time they could finally begin to live their lives as a couple.

**

_One week later_

The Mayor’s wife had insisted that a regal color scheme was most fitting to her position and therefore, purple reigned supreme.  The town hall was swathed in various shades of lilac, aubergine, fuchsia and byzantium but the overall effect was less stately and majestic, more wedding planner on acid.

Looking around at the room full of people, Tom leaned in close and whispered in Booker’s ear, “This is weird.”

“You share my bed every night, but _this_ is weird?” Dennis laughed.  “Talk about having a warped outlook on life.  I admit, the purple is a little overwhelming but—”

Tom grinned.  “You know what I mean.  We’ve come here as a _couple_ and soon everyone we work with is going to know that we’re dating.  Doesn’t that bother you?”

Booker narrowed his eyes and studied Tom’s face.  “No, it doesn’t,” he replied frostily.  “Does it bother _you?”_

Tom’s cheeks flushed red and he ducked his head.  “A little bit,” he admitted softly.  Seeing Dennis’ hurt expression, he reached out and took his hand.  “I’m sorry Dennis, but this is all so new to me,” he murmured.  “Surely you remember what it was like?”

Booker angrily pulled his hand away.  “I wasn’t ashamed,” he hissed through clenched teeth.  “I didn’t care what people thought because it was who I was.  _You_ obviously feel differently.”

Upon hearing Booker’s words, Tom’s eyes widened in disbelief.  “Bullshit,” he spat back in a hushed voice.  “If you were so upfront about your sexuality, why did you keep it a secret from all of us?”

It was at that moment that Dennis understood Tom’s apprehension.  It was true, he _had_ kept his bisexuality a secret and it was wrong of him to expect Tom to shout loudly from the rooftops that he was in a homosexual relationship.  Chances were that none of their co-workers would understand and now that he thought about it, he realized that it was especially difficult for Tom because Judy, Harry and Doug were not only colleagues, they were his friends. 

Indicating with his eyes for Tom to follow him, he exited the hall and walked out into the cool night air.  Once he was sure they were free from prying eyes, he turned and took Tom’s hand in his.  “I get it,” he muttered softly.  “Let’s just forget about saying anything.  It can be our secret.”

Tom leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dennis’ full pout.  “I don’t want to forget it,” he murmured.  “I love you and I want our relationship out in the open.  And anyway, I’ve already told my mom so telling everyone else should be a piece of cake.  Right?”

“So we do it now?” Dennis asked hesitantly, not truly believing that Tom would go ahead with it.

Tom let out a deep breath and smiled.  “We do it now.”

Walking back into the crowded venue, Tom immediately spotted Penhall, Ioki and Hoffs standing at the hors d'oeuvre table with their respective dates.  He turned to Booker and gave him a shy smile.  “Ready?”

Booker nodded and they approached their colleagues.  “Nice party,” Tom commented lamely.

Penhall shoved a deviled egg into his mouth.  “Food’s good,” he mumbled, ignoring the disapproving stare of his date.  When no one continued the conversation, his eyes scanned the room full of people.  “So Hanson, who’s your date?”

A mischievous look flashed in Booker’s eyes.  “Yeah Hanson, who _is_ your date?” he asked cheekily.

Doug’s gaze settled on a tall, leggy, blond woman.  “It’s her isn’t it?” he inquired through a mouthful of canapé.

A small smile twitched at Tom’s lips.  “Not even close.”

“Okay, I can do this,” Penhall muttered as he carefully studied the women in the room.  “Is it her?” he asked, pointing at a slim, dark-haired woman in a red dress.

Tom burst out laughing.  “Well you got the hair color right,” he replied, giving a discreet wink in Booker’s direction.

“Damn,” Doug lamented.  “I’m usually so good at this.  Okay, I give up, who’d you bring?”

It was the moment Tom had been both relishing and dreading.  He was about to come out in front of his friends and three other people he had only just met.  Taking a deep breath, he reached out and taking hold of Booker’s hand, he laced their fingers together.  “Dennis is my date.”

A long silence followed Tom’s statement before Doug burst out laughing, sending pieces of food flying from his lips.  “Yeah right!” he bellowed.  “Good one Hanson.”  It took a moment before he realized that no one else was laughing and turning to face Harry and Judy, he gasped when he saw the shocked expression on their faces.  “No way,” he murmured.  “It’s a joke.”

“It’s not a joke,” Tom replied in a shaky voice.  “Dennis and I are lovers.”

Judy let out a nervous giggle but she quickly stifled it by clamping a hand over her mouth.  Harry managed to gain his composure first and reaching out a hand, he laid it companionably on Tom’s shoulder.  “Well that’s great Tommy, congrat—”

The sound of Penhall’s voice rising higher and higher with each word cut off Ioki’s sentence.  “Noo, noo, noo, noo, _NOO!”_ he shrieked.  “Tommy!  You’re not gay!”

“Jesus Christ,” Tom muttered under his breath and leaning in towards Booker, he whispered in his ear, “I _told_ you he’d say that.”

“This is wrong,” Doug muttered as his head shook back and forth.  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing Hanson but—”

“What I’m _doing_ ,” Tom replied irritably, “is living my own life.  I don’t need your approval Doug.  It’s simple; I love Dennis and Dennis loves me, end of fucking story.”

Judy finally found her voice and stepping forward, she threw her arms around Tom and Dennis.  “You two make _such_ a gorgeous couple,” she gushed.  “I’m so happy for you both.”

Understanding that they were unwittingly caught in the middle of a private moment, the three dates sidled away towards the bar as Tom continued to stare at Doug.  “So?” he asked.  “Are you going to accept this or—”

“No,” Penhall replied quietly.  “I can’t.  I’m sorry Tommy but I can’t.”

Hoffs turned around and slammed her purse forcefully against Doug’s chest.  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled.  “Hanson’s your best friend and you’re willing to give that up because he’s dating a man?  You homophobic _prick!”_

Doug’s face flushed with shame.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered.  “I just don’t understand how this happened.”

Judy planted a hand on her hip and gave Penhall a hard stare.  “Does it _really_ matter _how_ it happened or _why_ it happened?” she asked in a voice full of attitude.  Seeing Doug’s distraught look, she softened her tone.  “The only thing that should matter is that you love Tom and you should want to see him happy.”

Her wise words had the desired effect and Doug lowered his gaze to the floor.  “You’re right,” he muttered at his shoes.  “I’m sorry.”

Hoffs nudged him in the arm.  “Don’t tell the floor, tell Hanson,” she urged quietly.

Lifting his head, Doug gave Tom a small crooked smile.  “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.  “Of course I don’t have a problem with you dating…” his eyes flicker towards Booker before returning to Tom, “… _him_.  It was just a bit of a shock but you’re right, it’s none of my business.”

Tom hesitated for a moment before returning the smile.  “Thanks Doug, that means a lot.”

An awkward silence hung in the air before Penhall muttered, “I need a drink,” and turning away, he hurried toward the bar.

Judy and Harry made their excuses and followed Doug, their heads bowed together in deep conversation.  Tom let out a heavy sigh and turned towards Dennis.  “Well, that went well.”

Booker draped an arm around Tom’s shoulders.  “Give them time, they’ll soon get used to the idea.”

Tom’s eyes filled with sadness.  “Judy and Harry will, but Doug… I doubt he’ll ever accept it.”

“Maybe,” Booker replied quietly.  “Or maybe you’re just not giving him enough credit.  Doug loves you and I think that once he gets used to the idea, he’ll be your strongest supporter.”

Tom lifted his head and stared into Booker’s dark eyes.  “Do you really think so?” 

“I _know_ so,” Booker murmured and he brushed his lips against Tom’s soft pout.

Doug’s voice echoed from across the room.  “JESUS _CHRIST!”_

Booker smiled against Tom’s mouth.  “He may need more time than I thought.”

Tom gazed lovingly into his partner’s eyes.  “He can take as long as he likes, ‘cause this relationship is going to last forever.”

_Finis  
_


End file.
